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COMMUNITY  ORGANIZATION 


THE  SOCIAL  WELFARE  LIBRARY 

Edited  by  Edward  T.  Devine,  Ph.D.,  LL.D. 

A  series  of  volumes  for  the  general  reader  and  the 
social  worker,  designed  to  contribute  to  the  under- 
standing of  social  problems,  and  to  stimulate  critical 
and  constructive  thinking  about  social  work. 

1.  Social    Work:    by    Edward    T.    Devine.      In 

preparation. 

2.  The  Story  of  Social  Work  in  America:  by 

Lillian  Brandt.     In  preparation. 

3.  Community  Organization:  by  Joseph  Kinmont 

Hart.    Price,  $2.25  net. 

4.  Industry  and  Human  Welfare:  by  William  L. 

Chenery.    In  preparation. 

5.  Treatment  of  the  Offender:  by  Winthrop  D. 

Lane.     In  preparation. 


THE  SOCIAL  WELFARE  LIBRARY 

COMMUNITY 
ORGANIZATION 


BY 

JOSEPH  KINMONT  HART 

AUTHOR  OF 
DEMOCRACY  IN  EDUCATION 


Nem  fork 
THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 

1920 

All  Righti  Reserved 


COPTBIOHT,  1920, 

Bt  the  macmillan  company 

Set  up  and  electrotyped.    Published  December,  1920. 


)3l 


PREFACE 


THIS  book  is  the  outgrowth  of  ten  years  of  work 
in  educational  and  social  lines  in  Western  States, 
together  with  six  months'  experience  with  the  War 
Camp  Community  Service  in  intensive  study  of  the 
problems  of  community  life  and  organization  under 
reconstruction  conditions.  The  backgrounds  of  the  dis- 
cussion may  be  found  in  the  educational  and  sociolog- 
ical literature  of  the  recent  past  and  present;  in  the 
actual  work  of  social  construction  and  reconstruction 
now  going  on  in  the  world;  and  in  the  community  pro- 
grams of  many  individuals,  groups,  associations,  and 
communities. 

It  is  an  effort  to  approach  our  social  problems  from 
the  standpoint  of  the  community  as  a  whole.  We  are 
attempting  to  discover  some  of  the  laws,  biological, 
psychological,  and  social,  within  which  human  asso- 
ciation goes  on  and  in  terms  of  which  more  or  less 
satisfactory  communities  have  been  built  up.  We  are 
attempting  to  develop  means  by  which  community 
thinking  of  a  higher  order  may  be  brought  to  bear  on 
the  problems  of  the  community  in  order  that  our  de- 
mocracy may  have  the  fullest  possible  use  of  all  its ' 
latent  resources  of  enthusiasm,  intelligence,  and  good 
will.  We  are  attempting  to  point  out  the  larger  com- 
munity ways  in  which  volunteer  energy  and  co-opera- 
tion may  be  made  to  bear  fruit  in  programs  of  health, 

149.5rS8 


PREFACE 

happiness,  and  social  understanding.  We  are  attempt- 
ing to  work  out  natural  social  motivations  that  will 
bring  the  common  masses  of  people  together  in  firmer 
bonds  of  mutual  understanding  and  helpfulness  in 
order  that  our  democracy  may  become  real,  substantial, 
and  humane. 

The  field  here  outlined  is  still  largely  open  country. 
This  is  not  a  final  guide  book,  it  is  a  sketch  of  certain 
high  points  from  which  the  whole  country  has  been 
more  or  less  dimly  descried.  May  it  stimulate  many 
others  to  exploration  in  the  same  field ! 

I  am  greatly  indebted  to  a  host  of  friends  and  stu- 
dents for  inspiration  to  undertake  this  task,  and  par- 
ticularly to  the  members  of  the  "Social  Service  Pub- 
lishing Company,"  for  providing  the  leisure  that  has 
made  the  work  possible, 

I  am  indebted  to  innumerable  individuals  and  groups 
who  have  enabled  me  to  come  into  intimate  and  con- 
crete contact  with  the  realities  of  community  life  in 
many  parts  of  the  country. 

I  am  indebted  to  Mr.  Ray  F.  Carter  and  Mr.  Tam 
Deering  of  Seattle  for  many  helpful  suggestions;  and 
to  my  secretary.  Miss  Adelaide  Morey,  for  continuous 
helpfulness  in  the  selection  of  materials  and  for  stimu- 
lating criticism. 

My  thanks  are  also  due  to  the  editor  of  the  series. 
Dr.  Devine,  and  to  Miss  Lilian  Brandt  and  Mr.  H.  S. 
Braucher,  for  illuminating  criticisms  upon  the  com- 
pleted manuscript. 

J.  K.  H. 


INTRODUCTION  BY  THE  EDITOR 

During  the  past  ten  years  social  workers  have  been 
at  school  in  technique.  Processes  of  diagnosis  and 
of  specialized  treatment  have  been  persistently  pressed 
upon  their  attention.  Such  broad  facts  of  our  com- 
mon economic  life  as  had  been  effectively  presented  in 
Professor  Patten's  New  Basis  of  Civilization  have 
been  allowed  to  sink  into  a  secondary  place,  when  not 
altogether  ignored.  The  training  schools  for  social 
workers  have  not  unnaturally  emphasized  the  technical 
aspects  of  investigation  and  treatment;  and  special 
periodicals  devoted  to  one  or  another  department  of 
social  practice  have  further  favored  this  tendency. 

Within  limits  this  is  a  necessary  and  beneficial 
development.  Knowledge  of  procedure  which  has 
proved  to  be  successful,  mastery  of  technique,  critical 
analysis  of  experience,  familiarity  with  case  records, 
are  essential  in  social  work  as  in  every  vocation.  The 
danger  is  that  we  may  become  so  absorbed  in  the  par- 
ticular manner  in  which  a  group  of  chosen  individ- 
uals are  to  be  treated — in  their  reactions,  favorable 
and  unfavorable — as  to  lose  altogether  the  larger  view 
of  the  conditions  under  which  they  live,  the  social 
forces  which  are  operating  upon  them  independently 
of  our  intervention,  the  motives  which  do  in  reality 
determine  their  general  course  of  action.  Similar 
over-specialization  may  occur  in  those  forms  of  social 


INTRODUCTION 

work  which  are  concerned  with  group  interests  or  the 
common  welfare  as  distinct  from  family  case  work. 
Community  organization,  for  example,  may  develop 
a  technique  in  which  selected  problems  are  followed 
to  their  most  intricate  ramifications  in  calm  disregard 
of  entire  lack  of  interest  in  those  problems  by  any 
existing  community  of  human  beings. 

In  either  case  this  tendency  may  be  fostered  by 
excessive  sensitiveness  to  the  good  opinion  of  those 
individuals  who  at  the  time  are  regarded  as  authori- 
ties in  the  field  in  question.  An  actual  dread  of  gen- 
eral popularity,  coupled  with  an  intense  desire  for  the 
approval  of  one  or  more  "experts,"  a  mutual  admira- 
tion guild  based  on  proficiency  in  a  special  form  of 
service,  an  intellectual  aristocracy  which  substitutes 
inner  satisfaction  for  objective  tests  of  social  utility, 
are  the  logical  outcome  of  an  over-elaboration  of 
"technique,"  when  not  controlled  by  the  observations 
and  criticisms  of  economists,  by  the  dicta  of  common 
sense,  by  the  facts  of  our  common  social  life  as  plain 
people  see  and  interpret  them. 

A  social  agency  created,  let  us  say,  to  care  for 
neglected  children,  or  to  furnish  facilities  for  whole- 
some recreation,  has  constantly  to  ask,  not  only.  What 
are  the  most  approved  methods  of  child  care?  What 
rare  and  interesting  obstacle  has  a  playground  leader 
uncovered?  but  also,  Are  children  on  the  whole  less 
neglected  as  a  result  of  the  activities  of  the  agency? 
Is  the  leisure  time  of  the  community  more  profitably 


INTRODUCTION 

employed,  and  by  what  test  of  profit?  Are  the  prob- 
lems on  which  attention  is  so  minutely  concentrated 
the  fundamental,  the  urgently  pressing  ones?  Case 
records  are  useful  for  instruction,  but  they  may  con- 
tain little  information  about  the  deeper  needs  even  of 
those  with  whom  they  deal,  and  none  at  all  about  the 
needs  of  their  neighbors. 

The  Social  Welfare  Library,  of  which  this  is  the 
initial  volume,  will  attempt  to  contribute  to  the  inter- 
ests of  those  who  are  engaged  in  what  is  broadly 
called  "social  work,"  including  not  only  that  directed 
toward  the  relief  and  rehabilitation  of  individuals 
and  families  but  that  which  is  undertaken  for  the  com- 
munity as  a  whole.  The  Editor's  desire  is  that  the 
studies  which  appear  in  this  Library  shall  do  some- 
thing to  supply  the  deficiency  to  which  attention  has 
been  called;  that  they  shall  contribute  to  social  think- 
ing rather  than  to  technique,  while  not  undervaluing 
the  latter;  that  they  shall  add  to  the  general  knowl- 
edge of  the  social  conditions  in  the  midst  of  which 
social  work  is  done  rather  than  re-analyze  processes 
already  sufficiently  established;  that  they  shall  aid  in 
a  human  appreciation  of  the  difficulties  caused  by 
sickness,  poverty,  and  maladjustment,  rather  than 
make  converts  to  some  one  way  of  meeting  these 
difficulties. 

With  this  aim  in  view,  the  present  discussion  of 
community  organization  by  Professor  Hart  is  confi- 
dently recommended  to  the  favorable  attention  of  all 


INTRODUCTION 

social  workers  and  of  the  general  public.  It  is  not 
propaganda,  open  or  covert.  It  is  not  designed  to 
inflame  the  emotions  over  some  one  aspect  of  the  prob- 
lem. It  is  a  thoughtful  and  sincere  presentation  of 
the  larger  problem  itself — a  demonstration  of  the 
importance  of  a  sense  of  community,  a  sympathetic 
examination  of  the  current  plans  for  deepening  and 
giving  expression  to  that  sense,  a  suggestion  as  to  how 
current  experience  and  thinking  may  be  audited  and 
applied  in  a  democratic  spirit.  It  is  written  for  those 
who  are  directly  engaged  in  community  service  in  any 
form,  and  for  the  larger  number  who  have  become 
uneasy  over  the  absence  of  community  spirit  and  who 
know  that  without  it  all  devices  for  promoting  the 
common  welfare  are  worse  than  useless. 

Edward  T.  Devine. 
August  3,  1920. 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I     Backgrounds    .     .     .     .     .     r.i    >.     •       3 
II    The  Present  Situation       ....     22 

III  The  Individual  as  the  Basis  of  Com- 

munity  50 

IV  The  Function  of  the  Social  Sciences    62 
V    The  Democratic  Ideal 'Id 

VI     Some  Important  Tasks 91 

VII     Types  of  Preliminary  Effort  .      .      .   104 

VIII     Obstructions 129 

IX     Developing  Community  Deliberation  141 

X    The  Inclusive  Program       .     .     .     .158 

XI     From  Deliberation  to  Action  .      .      .   179 

XII     Keeping  the  Program  Human  .     .     .   194 

XIII     The  Problem  of  Leadership      .     .      .  206 

Appendix 218 

Index     . 226 


COMMUNITY  ORGANIZATION 

CHAPTER  I 

BACKGROUNDS 

Human  beings  are  not  separate  and  independent 
grains  in  the  midst  of  drifting  social  sands.  They  are 
complex  centers  of  instincts,  impulses,  appetites  and 
desires,  which  impel  to  all  sorts  of  entangling  contacts. 
They  are  not  simple  and  distinct  atoms  in  the  neigh- 
borhood of  other  simple  and  distinct  atoms,  but  cen- 
ters of  complicated  and  ever-changing  (not  always 
growing)  relationships.  The  "individual"  as  such  does 
not  exist.  We  live  and  move  and  have  our  actual  being, 
whether  we  will  or  no,  in  the  mazes  of  social  contacts 
and  relationships  with  our  fellows. 

Human  beings  are,  therefore,  centers  of  a  variety  of 
needs.  Five  of  these  may  be  considered  major,  and 
out  of  these  have  grown  our  five  major  social  institu- 
tions. First,  as  infants  and  children,  we  need  nurture 
and  care,  and  this  need  has  given  rise  to  the  institution 
of  the  family.  Second,  as  centers  of  ideal  aspirations 
and  unsatisfied  longings,  we  need  some  broad  out- 
look upon  the  meanings  of  life  and  destiny,  and  this 
has  given  rise  to  the  institutions  of  religion.  Third, 
we  need  provision   for  our  physical  wants  and  the 

3 


4  Community  Organization 

chance  to  impress  ourselves  upon  the  world  of  things 
in  constructive  fashion,  and  this  has  given  rise  to  the 
institutions  of  industry.  Fourth,  we  need  the  oppor- 
tunity of  sharing  and  enjoying,  in  some  more  or  less 
just  fashion,  the  various  goods  of  the  world,  and  since 
this  calls  for  order  and  restraint  it  has  given  rise  to 
the  institution  of  the  state.  And,  finally,  we  need  to 
know,  and  to  extend  our  capacity  to  know,  continu- 
ously, and  this  has  given  rise  to  the  institution  of  the 
school.  (Of  course  we  have  many  minor  needs  which 
have  given  rise  to  many  sorts  of  minor  instrumentali- 
ties besides.) 

But  specialized  institutions,  although  they  have  de- 
veloped out  of  common  human  needs,  divide  the  com- 
munity among  themselves,  each  attempting  to  satisfy 
the  needs  of  individuals  and  the  community  in  its  own 
particularized  way.  The  great  modern  city  community 
is  not  an  undifferentiated  family  or  industry  or  gov- 
ernment or  religion  or  school.  These  distinctive  insti- 
tutions tend  to  divide  the  community.  They  develop 
their  own  particular  partisanships  and  champions ;  and 
they  compete  more  or  less  openly  for  the  attention  and 
loyalties  of  the  people.  The  result  is  that  individuals 
live  by  fragments  and  human  life  becomes  a  sort  of 
mosaic  patchwork  instead  of  a  unified  experience. 
More  than  this :  our  large  cities  tend  to  break  up  into 
segregated  districts — industrial  quarters,  residential 
sections,  church  neighborhoods,  etc.  The  government 
is  centralized  at  the  city  hall  and  police  station.  And 
education  is  shut  up   from  the  world  inside  school 


Backgrounds  5 

buildings  whose  windows  are  so  high  that  the  chil- 
dren cannot  see  what  is  going  on  out  in  the  city. 

Children  are  born  into  the  compHcations  of  this 
social  world,  this  world  wrought  of  many  aspiring 
— sometimes  co-operative,  often  antagonistic — frag- 
ments. Some  of  these  fragments  are  native  to  the 
community  soil,  the  products  of  long  development. 
Some  of  them  are  of  later  growth,  the  contributions  of 
immigrant  peoples  or  other  innovating  influences. 

Some  of  these  children  early  lose  themselves  or  are 
lost  in  one  of  these  struggling  groups,  and  grow  up 
without  ever  making  institutional  contacts  of  a  wider 
and  more  effective  sort.  They  never  learn  any  real 
sort  of  partisanship,  except  perhaps  a  sort  of  primi- 
tive, wolfish  following  of  the  clan.  They  never  become 
aware  that  there  is  anything  ideal  in  the  world  that 
is  big  enough  to  be  worth  fighting  for.  They  fall  into 
a  groove  of  the  city's  life  and  spend  their  years  irre- 
sponsibly. They  never  achieve  a  share  in  the  complex 
life  that  goes  on  all  about  them.  They  are  not  crim- 
inals; they  are  simply  the  city's  ignorant  undertow. 

Others,  in  large  numbers,  grow  up  to  become  com- 
pletely institutionalized  in  the  conventional  industrial, 
political,  social,  and  religious  fashions,  and  to  spend 
their  lives  in  a  round  of  group  relationships,  privileges, 
and  in  a  narrow  way,  responsibilities.  These  make  up 
the  great  bulk  of  the  city's  population — respectable, 
unimaginative  people  with  no  large  interest  in  any- 
thing save  the  welfare  of  the  group  with  which  their 
own  welfare  is  identified. 


6  Community  Organisation 

A  very  few,  under  contemporary  conditions,  having 
keen  imaginations  and  vigorous  sympathies,  grow  up 
through  all  levels  of  institutional  relationships  and 
achieve  a  more  or  less  vivid  and  true  conception  of 
the  physical  and  human  conditions  in  the  midst  of 
which  they  live.  These  few  grasp  something  of  their 
own  intimate  relationship  to  these  conditions ;  they  see 
something  of  the  significance  of  their  local  groups  to 
the  larger  life  of  the  nation;  and  they  may  even  be 
able  to  envisage  the  nation  as  a  member  of  an  eventual 
world-league  of  communities.  Many  are  called  to  this 
vision,  but  few  there  be  that  find  it. 

Now  the  existence  of  these  many  fragmentary  ele- 
ments, with  their  many  varying  objections  and  in- 
terests, and  their  many  narrow  and  often  exclusive 
loyalties,  leaves  many  crevices  in  the  life  of  the  city 
into  which  unattached  individuals  may  easily  fall,  or 
through  which  they  may  drop  out  of  sight.  Some  of 
these  crevices  are  disease,  crime,  poverty,  isolation,  de- 
feated hopes,  and  the  like.  The  number  of  those  who 
do  fall  into  them  is  socially  appalling. 

How  can  we  account  for  this  unsatisfying  character 
of  community  life,  if  institutions  were  developed  to 
serve  human  needs?  And  how  explain  this  careless- 
ness of  individuals  and  groups,  if  the  individual  is 
really  a  center  of  social  relationships?  The  answer  is 
found  in  the  story  of  the  development  of  our  com- 
munities. 

The  colonists  who  poured  from  the  Atlantic  sea- 
board into   the   wilderness   of   the   West,   after   the 


Backgrounds  7 

so-called  "French  and  Indian  War,"  and  especially 
after  the  Revolutionary  War,  carried  with  them  an 
intense  pride  in  their  individual  independence  and  self- 
sufficiency — a  pride  which  was  the  lineal  descendant 
of  the  "separatist"  and  "non-conformist"  convictions 
of  their  European  forbears.  They  carried  their  indi- 
vidualistic tendencies  often  to  the  extreme;  they 
wanted  neighbors,  but  they  did  not  want  their  neigh- 
bors to  be  too  near.  The  story  of  the  frontiersman 
who  "had  to  move  on"  when  he  heard  that  a  neighbor 
had  settled  five  miles  down  the  trail  illustrates  the 
point. 

This  pioneering  life  selected  these  qualities  of  indi- 
vidualistic self-sufficiency  and  wrought  them  .into  the 
blood  of  succeeding  generations  and  into  the  doctrines 
and  traditions  of  the  nation;  until  the  picture  that  we 
have  of  the  early  pioneer  is  of  one  standing  on  his  own 
farm  and  saying  tO'  all  comers :  "This  is  a  free  coun- 
try. This  is  my  farm,  and  I  can  do  as  I  please  with 
my  property.  I  can  run  my  business  as  I  please !"  And 
because  he  stood  on  his  own  rights  and  met  his  prob- 
lems in  his  own  independent  way,  the  continent  was 
rapidly  conquered  and  developed. 

But  recent  decades  have  seen  multitudes  of  people 
trained  in  this  pioneering  way  moving  into  the  cities, 
where  they  must  live  in  close  touch  with  one  another. 
Under  these  city  conditions  some  of  the  old  pioneering 
lessons  must  be  unlearned.  In  the  farm  days  if  the 
farmer  wanted  to  keep  a  pig  in  his  back  yard,  or  even 
in  the  "parlor,"  that  was  his  own  business — his  and  the 
pig's.    His  neighbors  were  so  far  away  that,  though 


8  Community  Organisation 

they  might  talk,  they  had  no  real  ground  on  which  to 
object,  even  had  they  been  inclined  to  interfere.  But 
if  as  a  city  resident,  cherishing  his  old  pioneer  customs, 
he  wants  to  keep  a  pig  in  his  back  yard,  his  neighbor 
claims  the  right  to  have  something  to  say  about  the 
matter.  The  doctrine,  "this  is  my  own  property  and 
I  can  do  as  I  please  with  it"  narrows  down  until  it 
disappears,  at  least  in  certain  directions.  That  which 
was  good  old  American  doctrine  in  the  pioneer  days 
on  the  farm  turns  out  to  be  no  longer  good  doctrine 
in  the  city.  Health  authorities,  police  authorities,  moral 
squads,  and  many  other  sorts  of  "impertinent  inter- 
ferers"  insist  on  calling  around  to  help  the  independent 
pioneer  adjust  his  old  habits  to  the  new  conditions  of 
city  life. 

In  fact,  just  as  the  Anglo-Saxon  pioneer  in  America 
showed  himself  to  be  the  true  descendant  of  the  older 
European  pioneers  not  by  doing  the  things  he  had  pre- 
viously done  in  Europe,  but  by  doing  the  things  that 
needed  to  be  done  under  the  changed  conditions  of 
living  in  the  wilderness,  so  the  modern  city  dweller 
will  show  himself  to  be  the  true  descendant  of  the 
American  pioneers  by  doing  what  needs  to  be  done 
in  the  city.  And  the  thing  that  needs  to  be  done  is 
not  to  stand  on  the  inviolability  of  traditional  indi- 
vidual rights,  but  so  to  readjust  habit  and  custom  as 
to  make  possible  a  good  life  for  all  in  the  city.  But 
this  is  a  hard  lesson,  and  few  there  be  that  learn  it. 

There  is  another  phase  of  historical  development 
wbich  demands  a  word.   The  life  of  the  race  began  in 


•Backgrounds  9 

small  communities  which  lay  perhaps  at  the  crossing 
of  two  primitive  trails.  In  such  small  communities, 
living  was  very  simple  and  modern  social  institutions 
were  as  yet  undifferentiated.  The  community  was 
everything.  There  was  no  separate  government  or  in- 
dustry or  religion  or  education.  Even  separate  families 
did  not  exist.  The  whole  community  was  the  family, 
the  government,  the  industry,  the  religious  order,  the. 
school.  The  community  was  just  a  large  family  which 
governed  itself,  fed  and  clothed  itself,  worshipped  in  its 
own  way,  and  educated  its  children  by  giving  them  the 
chance  to  grow  up  in  the  midst  of  the  common  life. 
(Of  course,  there  were  complications  a-plenty  in  all 
this,  but  the  community  group  was  simple  and  all  could 
know  each  other.) 

Now  in  the  course  of  some  thousands  of  years,  the 
little  community  at  the  crossing  of  the  trails  has  be- 
come the  great  city  at  the  crossing  of  many  trails.  In 
the  city  people  do  not  know  one  another.  Frequently 
they  even  make  efforts  to  keep  from  knowing  one  an- 
other. The  city  has  become  too  unwieldy  to  go  on  as 
one  common  group,  and  the  people  are  too  ignorant  of 
one  another.  The  needs  of  the  people,  stimulated  by 
all  sorts  of  contacts,  have  developed  in  many  direc- 
tions, and  special  instrumentalities  for  answering  those 
needs  have  grown  up  and  become  differentiated  and 
distinct.  These  are  our  social  institutions. 

These  illustrations  from  history  show  us  two  defi- 
nite types  of  defect  in  our  modern  communities:  the 
over-individualistic,   somewhat  boastful  sort  of  per- 


10  Community  Organisation 

son,  who  insists  upon  standing  upon  certain  ancient 
"rights,"  even  though  multitudes  may  thereby  be 
crowded  below  the  levels  of  decent  living;  and  the 
stagnant,  over-developed  institution,  which,  though  it 
is  the  direct  product  of  natural  historic  processes,  has 
largely  become  dislocated  from  its  original  function  of 
service  to  the  community  along  some  useful  social  line, 
and  devotes  far  too  much  of  its  time  to  the  building  up 
of  its  own  prestige,  and  so  comes  either  to  be  an  ob- 
struction to  community  development  or,  passing  up  the 
whole  task,  turns  the  welfare  of  the  community  over 
to  chance  or  accident, — to  laissez  faire.  So  the  old- 
time  integrity  of  the  primitive  community  has  been  de- 
stroyed by  competitions  among  institutions  and  among 
their  over-individualistic  champions ;  some  fragmentary 
group  and  some  lesser  loyalty  have  taken  the  place  of 
this  community.  Both  good  and  evil  have  grown  out 
of  these  changes. 

Yet  in  spite  of  the  competition  of  these  institutions 
and  their  champions  among  themselves  and  with  the 
original  community,  always  there  emerges  the  need  of 
a  community  background  for  our  living.  We  really 
have  a  sixth  major  need,  the  need  of  community.  Men 
cannot  live  forever  in  fragments  of  the  world;  we  need 
a  whole  world,  a  fatherland,  however  shadowy  it  may 
be.  Hence,  in  every  age,  in  the  absence  of  real  com- 
munity, some  particular  phase  of  the  community  has 
undertaken  to  make  itself  the  central  organizing  factor 
in  providing  for  this  need.  Always  these  efforts  have 
spent  themselves  in  attempting  to  make  the  part  do 


Backgrounds  1 1 

the  work  of  the  whole.  Always  some  other  part  has 
been  excluded.  The  larger  task  of  bringing-  all  human 
beings  into  the  community  life  has  remained  to  the 
coming  of  democracy. 

In  the  course  of  history  this  sense  of  the  need  of 
community  has  gathered  around  at  least  three  different 
elements.  One  of  these  is  property.  Under  this  ten- 
dency, the  real  community  is  supposed  to  be  made  up 
of  those  individuals  who  have  had  sufficient  force  to 
make  themselves  possessors  of  property.  At  times,  this 
has  been  one  of  the  qualifications  of  the  voter.  Any- 
one who  could  not  accumulate  a  little  property  did  not 
count,  and  therefore  should  not  be  counted.  In  the 
Middle  Ages  members  of  the  community  held  their 
property  in  a  future  world, — and  that  fact  seriously 
interfered  with  any  program  of  community  develop- 
ment in  this  world.  At  present,  over-emphasis  upon 
this  element  constitutes  one  of  the  main  obstacles  to 
the  humanizing  of  our  community  life.  Property  is 
indeed  fundamental  to  the  full  sense  of  personality  for 
most  of  us,  as  the  individual  who  can  impress  himself 
upon  the  world  through  his  sheer  personality  is  very 
rare.  But  the  struggle  for  the  possession  of  property 
or  power  has  taken  upon  itself  the  form  of  an  old  group 
warfare,  and  by  interpreting  itself  as  a  "war  of  the 
classes"  largely  denies  the  possibility  of  community. 

The  working  out  of  this  concept  and  its  organization 
into  political  forms  would  result  in  an  utter  individual- 
ism. Some  hold  that  this  is  the  true  and  final  "order 
of  nature"  and  that,  by  and  large,  under  such  a  pro- 


12  Community  Organisation 

gram  every  individual  would  achieve  the  measure  of 
success  to  which  he  was  rightly  entitled,  measuring  suc- 
cess of  course  by  the  property  accumulated.  The 
successful  individual  would  prove  his  right  to  survive ; 
the  unsuccessful  would  prove  his  unfitness.  However 
tragic  the  case  might  be  for  the  individual;  and  how- 
ever much  society  might  in  its  kindliness,  by  charity, 
palliate  his  sufferings,  his  ultimate  elimination  would 
make  for  the  real  good  of  the  race. 

This  is  sometimes  called  the  "American  doctrine." 
Obviously,  it  is  related  to  that  extreme  pioneering 
individualism  of  the  nineteenth  century,  which  did 
indeed  make  for  the  quick  conquest  of  the  wilderness, 
and  which  had  much  to  commend  it  in  the  days  when 
free  land  was  plentiful;  but  we  may  well  question 
whether  it  is  still  good  American  doctrine  now  that 
free  land  is  no  more. 

A  second  of  these  organizing  community  concepts  is 
that  of  the  political, state,  whose  symbol  of  strength  is 
the  military.  This  concept  is  all  too  easily  identified 
with  property  rights;  and  democracy  seems  increas- 
ingly suspicious  of  the  ultimate  value  of  the  concept 
and  increasingly  critical  of  the  form  and  character  of 
the  state.  In  the  midst  of  the  great  war,  the  political 
state,  at  any  rate  in  America,  experienced  a  consider- 
able increase  in  prestige,  becoming,  after  a  fashion  of 
feeling,  our  real  community.  Property  rights  seemed 
for  a  moment  less  blatant;  labor  unions  subordinated 
themselves  to  the  common  welfare;  and  all  except  a 
few  racial  and  social  irreconcilables  out  on  the  fringe 


Backgrounds  13 

of  things  seemed  to  be  able  to  achieve  a  sort  of  merii- 
bership. 

But  the  state  as  the  community  began  to  fade  into 
the  background  as  soon  as  the  war  was  over.  The 
interests  and  attentions  of  the  people  have  for  the  most 
part  turned  to  more  immediate  objectives.  Property 
"rights"  have  become  oppressively  obnoxious,  until 
as  "profiteering"  they  are  threatened  with  utter  elim- 
ination. "Government  by  injunction,"  revived  again, 
has  alienated  the  affections  of  millions  of  workers.  In 
recent  industrial  conferences,,  the  elected  representa- 
tives of  the  people,  i.  e.,  Congress,  have  been  completely 
ignored  and  extra-legal  bodies  have  attempted  to  do 
what  the  state  is  obviously  unable  to  do.  All  this  raises 
the  question  as  to  the  place  of  the  political  state  in  the 
future  of  our  democratic  civilization.  As  an  institution 
depending  upon  force  for  its  existence,  it  must  face 
the  very  practical  question  whether  it  can  force  the 
loyalties  of  all  the  people.  Certainly  no  community 
can  ever  hope  to  build  itself  permanently  on  or  by 
means  of  force.  If  the  state  is  to  become  the  com- 
munity of  our  needs,  it  must  learn  other  means  of  win- 
ning the  loyalties  of  the  people. 

The  third  of  these  organizing  concepts  has  had  a 
shorter  history  than  either  of  the  others ;  but  in  recent 
times  it  has  developed  a  peculiar  strength.  The  eco- 
nomic union,  the  "labor  union,"  under  some  one  of  its 
several  forms,  claims  now  to  be  the  true  representative 
of  humanity,  and  therefore  the  proper  center  around 
which  to  organize  the  future  community.    If  numbers 


14  Community  Organisation 

are  to  count,  or  the  larger  humanness  of  the  motive, 
then  this  conception  comes  very  much  closer  to  the 
needs  of  the  world.  But  insofar  as  the  program  of  the 
labor  union  necessarily  works  out  in  terms  of  a  "class 
struggle"  into  intolerance  of  all  other  interests  and 
groups,  it  denies  community,  and  is  undoubtedly  not 
the  ultimate  center  of  community  organization. 

It  is  apparent,  then,  that  no  one  of  these  three  is 
fully  satisfactory  to-day  as  the  ultimate  expression  of 

human  need.  All  will  continue  to  exist,  but  the  world 
needs  something  more.  There  are  too  many  people 
who  do  not  belong  to  any  one  of  them!  The  world 
holds  many  men  and  women  to-day  who  are  without 
property  or  a  country  or  a  union  or  a  community.  The 
spectacle  of  boat-loads  of  irreconcilables  ranging  the 
high  seas  seeking  in  all  directions  for  landing  places 
is  tragic  evidence  of  the  partial  failure  of  our  past 
efforts  at  community  building.  Not  only  is  this — as 
in  the  primitive  case  of  Cain — a  punishment  greater 
than  these  individuals  can  bear,  but  it  is  rapidly 
becoming  a  burden  greater  than  the  established 
community  cari  bear. 

These  discontented  ones,  whether  individuals, 
groups,  or  nations,  cannot  be  summarily  excluded  from 
humanity.  We  may  legislate  them  out,  and  declare 
them,  "beyond  the  pale,"  but  nature  will  be  slow  to 
accept  our  decree.  Carlyle's  story  of  the  beggar  woman 
of  mediaeval  England  may  become  our  story.  This 
woman  went  from  door  to  door  through  the  village 
begging  for  food,  but  ever3'-where  the  superior  beinfys 


Backgrounds  15 

turned  from  her  in  disgust  as  if  she  were  not  of  their 
race.  But  she  had  the  final  word,  for,  though  she  died 
in  the  ditch  outside  the  village,  she  gave  an  epidemic 
of  smallpox  to  the  whole  community.  They  would 
have  nothing  to  do  with  her,  but  she  had  much  to  do 
with  them ! 

And  so,  because  human  life  is  very  real,  and  grows 
as  all  other  organic  things  grow — in  response  to  the 
stimulations  that  nourish  and  support  it,  we  need  to 
make  sure  that  we  are  developing  round  about  our 
growing  individuals  and  in  the  midst  of  our  whole 
civilization  adequate  wholeness  of  environment — i.  e., 
a  healthful  community  organization.  Human  life 
needs  to  be  surrounded  by  something  more  inclusive 
and  sound  than  property  rights  or  political  force  or 
economic  self-interest  (though  the  significance  of  these 
is  not  to  be  ignored).  It  needs  the  wholeness  of  life 
of  a  varied  human  group,  active,  rich  in  healthful  emo- 
tions, intelligent.  Fragmentary  environments  inevit- 
ably nourish  fragmentary  individuals;  and  while  there 
may  be  occasional  exceptions,  wholeness  of  life  can  be 
assured  only  in  wholeness  of  community.  And  why? 
Because  at  the  center  of  individual  and  group  charac- 
ter and  personality  is  habit;  and  habit  grows  by  what 
it  feeds  upon — that  is  to  say,  it  is  developed  by  the 
accidents  of  the  world  round  about.  But  we  do  not  do 
well  to  leave  the  destiny  of  the  individual  and  the 
group  to  the  mercy  of  environmental  accidents;  indi- 
vidual and  group  growth  may  not  safely  be  left  to  the 
play  of  circumstance. 


16  Community  Organisation 

The  human  nervous  system  is  infinitely  complicated, 
and  it  hungers  inexpressibly  for  the  widest  ranges  of 
stimulation.  The  average  environment  for  most  of  us 
in  the  larger  cities  is  unsatisfying.  The  range  of  so- 
cially healthful  stimulations  is  narrow,  and  tradition- 
ally determined,  if  determined  at  all;  and  multitudes 
of  young  people  are  driven  out  to  the  precarious  search 
for  additional  excitements,  good  or  bad.  The  cry 
"Nothing  interesting  ever  goes  on  in  our  community!" 
is  the  cry  of  the  hungry  nervous  system  everywhere. 
In  former  times  these  unsatisfied  desires  were  set 
down  to  the  credit  of  the  total  depravity  of  the 
individual;  but  modern  psychology  sees  them  in  a 
truer  light,  recognizing  in  them  the  pledge  of  what- 
ever may  be  new  in  the  true  and  the  beautiful  and 
the  good  of  the  civilization  of  the  future.  Hence  mod- 
em social  work  turns  ever  more  and  more  to  the  task 
of  making  a  healthful  community  life  that  shall  afford 
adequate  stimulation  to  all  this  struggling,  hungry 
desire  of  the  individual.  In  the  normal  and  healthful 
expression  of  this  desire  lie  the  hopes  of  the  nobler 
civilization  of  the  future.  In  its  suppression,  or  in  its 
perverted  manifestations,  lie  promises  of  endless  mis- 
ery, vice,  crime,  insanity,  disease,  and  all  the  long 
catalogue  of  human  social  evils.  The  healthful  growth 
of  our  democratic  civilization  is  dependent  upon  the 
development  of  this  more  completely  healthful  social 
environment, — the  organized  community. 

There  is,  however,  a  subtle  danger  here.  The  com- 
munity is  not  a  definite  and  concrete  group  which  all 


Backgrounds  17 

may  see  and  immediately  apprehend.  It  is  rather  an 
informing  concept,  a  social  ideal.  Hence  it  exists  at 
present  mainly  in  the  social  imagination  of  individuals. 
Outside  the  individual  it  may  be  little  more  than  a 
phrase, — easily  mouthed  and  easily  lost.  Hence,  if 
anyone  should  give  up  his  loyalty  to  some  concrete 
institution  of  the  community  for  the  sake  of  this  ideal, 
and  then  should  lose  the  sense  of  the  reality  of  this 
community  (as  easily  he  might),  he  would  be  lost  in- 
deed. He  would  be  thus  a  man  without  a  country,  with- 
out objective  for  his  loyalties.  It  is  better  to  be  an 
ardent  churchman  of  the  narrowest  sort  than  to  be  a 
milk  and  water  sort  of  non-religionist;  better  to  be  a 
narrow  nationalist  than  a  pallid,  ghostly  mouther  of 
words  about  an  internationalism  that  takes  no  hold 
on  conduct.  It  takes  a  big  person  to  be  a  super-institu- 
tionalist,  a  real  internationalist.  For  that  reason  we 
need  not  wonder  that  strong  institutionalists  usually 
regard  the  advocates  of  community  as  being,  to  use 
Graham  Wallas's  phrase,  "bloodless  traitors";  or  that 
strong  nationalists  think  of  internationalists  as  the 
worst  enemies  of  mankind.  If  a  phrase  should  release 
men  from  a  loyalty,  however  small,  that  has  some 
significance,  into  a  reputed  larger  loyalty  that  turns  out 
to  be  nothingness,  that  phrase  may  well  be  regarded  as 
a  menace  to  civilization. 

There  is,  then,  a  verbal  statement  of  community 
which  would  deny  the  values  of  our  common  institu- 
tions and  would  seek  to  escape  from  them.  This  we 
need  to  avoid.   There  is  another  conception  that  would 


18  Community  Organisation 

identify  the  real  values  of  the  community  with  some 
one — ^any  one — of  these  fragmentary  institutions.  This 
also  we  need  to  avoid.  We  need  to  save  all  the  race's 
achievements  in  the  way  of  institutions,  interests,  and 
activities,  without  becoming  lost  in  any  one  of  them; 
and  we  need  to  surround  these  achievements  with 
something  of  the  immediate  sociability  and  congenial- 
ity of  the  old,  primitive  group,  with  its  natural 
desires  and  instinctive  satisfactions. 

The  sociability  of  the  primitive  community  was  pos- 
sible because  that  group  was  small.  A  great  city  can- 
not develop  the  same  immediate  congeniality  or  social 
feeling.  But  multitudes  of  people  roam  the  streets  of 
the  modern  city,  work  in  its  industries,  throng  its  trans- 
portation systems,  haunt  its  dance  halls  and  other 
places  of  amusement,  huddle  in  its  tenements — all  hop- 
ing for  human  satisfactions,  of  the  old  instinctive  and 
satisfying  sort.  They  find  these  satisfactions  in  vary- 
ing degrees  and  with  uncertain  outcomes.  The  modern 
city  is  not  consciously  organized  to  destroy  its  citizens. 
That  would  be  bad  business.  But  it  is  so  organized  as 
to  exploit  them,  especially  the  young,  to  cheapen  and 
degrade  them,  often  to  feed  them  on  stones  when  they 
ask  for  bread,  and  sometimes  to  entangle  them  beyond 
escape.  The  city  questions  the  validity,  of  most  of  our 
instinctive  desires,  and  so  condemns  many  of  them  to 
suppression  or  repression,  or  to  a  sordid  and  illicit 
expression.  The  normal  human  instincts  are  given 
short  shrift  in  modern  industry.  The  longings  for  nor- 
mal social  contacts  are  used  to  ensnare  the  unsophisti- 


Backgrounds  19 

cated.  Sex  instincts  are  banned,  suppressed,  misin- 
terpreted and  perverted.  Leadership  all  too  often  finds 
its  only  outlet  in  vicious  and  criminal  directions.  And 
gambling,  often  with  stakes  not  honestly  earned, 
becomes  one  of  the  city's  chief  avenues  of  adventure. 
No  lasting  and  worthy  civilization  can  be  built  of 
communities  that  develop  far  in  these  directions. 

The  modern  community  could  become  more  intelli- 
gent with  reference  to  these  great  needs  of  the  common 
life.  Congenial  groups  are  not  impossible,  even  in  the 
midst  of  millions.  Far-reaching  provision  could  be 
made  for  the  satisfactions  of  all  the  normal  aspects  of 
our  instinctive  life  if  we  were  fully  convinced  of  their 
advantageousness  and  necessity.  And  the  modern  city 
could  be  made  a  really  human  community  if  we  could 
just  get  our  critical  faculties  and  our  constructive 
social  imaginations  focused  upon  the  problem. 

Forgetting  our  primitive  human  needs,  it  is  easy 
to  turn  the  development  of  the  community  over  to 
those  strong,  exploiting  individuals  who  have  no  par- 
ticular sense  of  social  values,  and  whose  only  interest 
is  in  taking  "all  the  traffic  will  bear."  Attempting  to 
escape  from  this  intolerable  outcome,  we  undertake  to 
organize  the  community  in  such  mechanical  ways  that 
everyone's  activities  are  completely  circumscribed  by 
fixed  regulations.  This  was  the  ambition  and  the  fatal 
mistake  of  Germany  in  the  old  days. 

Is  there  no  escape  from  this  dilemma?  Must  we 
admit  that  our  communities  must  forever  choose  be- 
tween  thoughtlessness   and   complete  regimentation? 


20  Community  Organisation 

Democracy  and  the  scientific  spirit  alike  demand  a 
social  order  that  shall  be  intelligent  and  still  be  free: 
a  social  order  in  which  all  strong  and  capable  per- 
sonalities will  find  adequate  employment;  in  which  all 
the  sciences  and  social  technologies  can  be  continu- 
ously brought  into  use;  and  in  which  at  the  same  time 
adequate  democratic  opportunity  will  be  increasingly 
assured  the  masses  of  the  people  to  choose  their  own 
manner  of  life  and  obedience. 

These  are  the  tasks  that  confront  the  statesmen,  the 
educators,  the  social  philosophers  and  idealists,  the  so- 
cial workers  of  the  age,  and  indeed  all  good  citizens 
who  believe  in  democracy  and  have  any  love  for  their 
kind.  The  fate  of  democracy  is  wrapped  up  in  the 
future  of  community  life.  And  the  future  of  our  com- 
munity life  depends  upon  the  programs  of  community 
organization  which  our  social  inventiveness  is  able  to 
develop.  Democracy  awaits  the  revelation  of  these 
broader  community  programs. 

All  too'  long  these  social  problems  have  been  re- 
garded as  the  tasks  of  "social  workers."  But  the  prob- 
lems of  the  community  can  never  rightly  be  regarded 
as  the  private  tasks  of  anyone.  The  democratic  com- 
munity cannot  so  lightly  escape  its  responsibilities. 

For  a  community  is  not  a  mere  aggregation  of  indi- 
viduals. And  the  problems  of  a  community  are  not 
just  the  sum  of  the  problems  of  individuals.  A  com- 
munity is  not  a-"gregation"  at  all.  Its  members  have 
passed  beyond  the  stage  of  getting  together — in  many 


Backgrounds  21 

respects — ^and  just  are  together,  in  wide  ranges  of 
interest,  activity  and  hope  bound  up  with  one  another 
beyond  untanghng.  The  tangle  of  problems  arising 
must  be  solved  in  the  community  or  not  at  all.  And 
the  only  wisdom  that  is  inclusive  enough  to  solve  them 
in  democratic  fashion  is  the  wisdom  of  the  whole 
people,  when  that  has  been  released,  mustered,  disci- 
plined, and  set  to  work  upon  the  tasks.  The  salvation 
of  the  democratic  community  is  in  the  released  wisdom 
and  co-operative  enterprise  of  all  the  members  of  the 
community. 


CHAPTER  II 


THE  PRESENT  SITUATION 


An  old  civilization  came  to  its  breaking  point  in 
1914,  and  to  its  complete  breakdown  in  1918.  That 
old  civilization  is  gone  in  all  save  some  indefinite  frag- 
ments, and  "not  all  the  king's  horses  or  all  the  king's 
men"  can  ever  put  it  together  again  in  the  old  ways. 
This  does  not  mean,  however,  that  America  is  doomed 
to  failure.  Americans  made  American  institutions  in 
the  beginning,  and  at  need  they  can  make  others.  It 
does  mean  that  in  common  with  the  sordid  and  shift- 
less institutions  of  the  world,  American  institutions 
failed  to  provide  adequately  for  the  inner  life.  In  the 
face  of  danger  men  and  women  alike  showed  in  this 
war  period  as  high  courage  and  moral  enthusiasm  as 
in  any  generation  of  the  past.  But  moral  courage  is  a 
function  of  the  biological  stock,  rather  than  of  acquired 
character.  Therefore,  the  sordid  and  shiftless  nature 
of  our  civilization  before  the  war  had  not  really 
touched  the  quality  of  the  stock.  The  surprise  that 
the  whole  world  expressed  when  American  men  proved 
as  courageous  as  men  of  other  nations  shows  clearly 
that  there  was  a  general  feeling  that  American  insti- 
tutions had  deteriorated  since  the  brave  days  of  old, 

22 


The  Present  Situation  23 

and  that  along  with  them,  American  character  had 
suffered  some  corresponding  disintegration.  But  the 
war  seems  to  have  proved  our  native  mettle,  and  there- 
fore to  have  proved  that  the  glory  of  America  is  more 
in  her  stock  than  in  her  institutions. 

In  the  realm  of  idealism  our  showing  must  be  con- 
sidered rather  equivocal.  We  proved  ourselves  equal 
to  the  call  to  high  endeavor  as  against  a  foreign  men- 
ace, but  we  have  not  shown  ourselves  equally  able  to 
meet  the  insidious  foes  within  our  own  community  life. 
We  have  been  victimized  by  profiteers,  browbeaten  by 
patrioteers,  and  frightened  into  intolerance  by  rabid 
agitators,  until  we  have,  either  through  fear  or  through 
a  deliberate,  bourbonism,  legally  smothered  many  of  the 
old  ideals  of  free  people.  Our  reactionary  leadership 
is  devoted  to  "security,  sanity,  safety"  and  to  a  sort 
of  "Americanism"  which  has  been  defined  as  "the  right 
of  every  man  to  make  himself  a  millionaire  if  he  can 
turn  the  trick."  We  have  been  scared  by  strange  noises, 
and  frightened  by  shadows.  The  brave  idealisms  of 
the  Declaration  of  Independence  and  of  the  Bill  of 
Rights  are  subject  now  to  the  interpretation  of  polit- 
ical expediency  and  petty  officialdom. 

We  must  face  reality.  We  must  begin  with  our 
actual  world  Hfe,  as  it  appears  in  our  communities.  The 
adjustment  of  individuals,  groups,  and  nations  to  one 
another  was  not  satisfactory  in  1914.  Their  relations 
were  in  fact  unendurable,  and  this  unendurable  quality 
had  become  so  irritating  that  it  flamed  up  in  the  hot 


24  Community  Organisation 

passions  of  war.  Whether  we  will  or  no,  we  must  face 
the  problem  of  working  out  new  adjustments  of  in- 
dividuals, groups,  and  nations,  more  in  accordance 
with  the  democratic  developments  of  human  nature. 
Probably  the  greatest  treason  to  human  well-being  pos- 
sible at  the  present  time  is  the  doctrine  that  all  these 
long-suppressed  energies  must  be,  to  the  greatest  pos- 
sible extent,  once  more  pressed  back  into  the  old  insti- 
tutional molds. 

Some  would  have  us  believe  that  this  can  be  done — 
that  these  world  unrests  are  primarily  the  result  of 
superficial  agitation  and  the  futile  longing  to  attain  the 
unattainable.  But  the  sincere  thinking  of  the  world 
seems  to  agree  that  they  are  rather  the  results  of  the 
release  of  long-suppressed  energies.  Human  instincts 
buried  for  centuries  under  repressive  institutions — po- 
litical, industrial,  educational,  religious — have  had  the 
chance  to  escape,  and  the  world  is  now  both  suffering 
and  enjoying  the  expression  of  these  largely  unsus^ 
pected  areas  of  energy. 

We  are  seeing  to-day  as  never  before  the  possibilities 
of  individual  life;  and  we  may  well  question  the  effec- 
tiveness of  our  old  community  life  as  it  appeared  in 
individual  experience.  We  can  find  illuminating  com- 
mentaries upon  various  aspects  of  this  problem  in  the 
results  of  the  tests  applied  by  military  authorities  in 
the  examination  of  our  soldiers  under  the  selective 
service  act. 

The  physical  tests  applied  showed  that  some  30  i>er 


The  Present  Situation  25 

cent  or  more  of  our  young  men  were  physically  unfit 
for  service  in  the  army.  This  does  not  mean  that  30 
per  cent  were  altogether  socially  ineffective,  but  that 
an  appalling  proportion  of  our  young  men  were  physi- 
cally below  par.  No  nation  can  call  itself  intelligent 
that  so  lightly  ignores  the  great  problem  of  individual 
and  national  health  and  vitality.  The  reports  of  the 
public  health  service  in  all  its  branches  are  filled  with 
illustrations  of  this  lack  of  attention  to  the  problems 
of  health  and  vitality.  We  have  thought  that  our  Amer- 
ican rural  life  produced  healthy  and  effective  children, 
but  recent  surveys  of  health  conditions  in  rural  counties 
show  an  average  of  more  than  one  defect  to  each  indi- 
vidual school  child.  These  defects  range  of  course  all 
the  way  from  relatively  unimportant  ones  to  the  most 
serious.  Yet  on  the  whole  before  the  war  our  local 
communities  everywhere  were  blissfully  ignorant  of 
these  conditions. 

The  educational  tests  applied  in  the  army  were  new 
and  more  practical  than  any  similarly  applied  before. 
For  example,  the  test  for  literacy  was  twofold:  each 
man  was  asked  tO'  read  a  simple  paragraph  from  a 
newspaper  and  explain  its  meaning,  and  to  write  a 
short  news  note  home  to  his  folks.  If  he  failed  to  get 
the  meaning  of  what  he  read,  or  if  he  was  unable  to 
write  a  sensible  note,  he  was  listed  as  illiterate.  On 
the  basis  of  these  tests  about  33  1-3  per  cent  of  the  men 
were  so  classed.  It  is  obvious  that  the  census  reports 
on  literacy  have  been  absurdly  unreliable. 


26  Community  Organisation 

It  may  be  presumed  that  similar  results  would  have 
been  secured  if  these  tests  had  been  applied  to  the 
young  women  of  the  country. 

If  we  ask  the  reason  for  these  outcomes  of  our  com- 
munity life  we  must  go  back  for  our  answer  to  the 
character  of  our  pre-war  institutions.  We  must  inquire 
into  the  community  status  of  certain  of  the  great  func- 
tions of  life,  and  of  the  institutions  through  which 
these  functions  secured  their  social  expression.  The 
world  is  still  shaking  with  tremors  of  the  old  war-time 
quakings,  and  will  long  continue  to  do  so.  Our  inquiry 
leads  us  into  some  of  the  outstanding  characteristics 
of  the  breakdown  we  have  witnessed,  and  to  the  prob- 
able modes  of  our  escape  from  these  old  conditions. 
Straight  thinking — a  very  difficult  task  under  any  cir- 
cumstances— is  indispensable  now.  How  shall  we 
achieve  this  straight  thinking?  How  shall  we  reach 
the  inclusive  outlook  that  we  need? 

Three  attitudes  of  mind  are  noticeable  in  these  days. 
Some,  holding  firmly  in  their  closed  minds  answers 
learned  from  tradition,  made  sacred  by  old  partisan 
loyalties  and  reinforced  by  subtle  fears,  fail  to  see  the 
real  problems  of  the  present  and  call  intolerantly  for 
the  suppression  of  all  thinking.  Others,  priding  them- 
selves on  what  they  call  their  "open-mindedness,"  seek 
in  an  empty-minded  sort  of  way  for  all  sorts  of  interest- 
ing bits  of  information — as  a  sponge  gathers  up  drops 
of  water  lying  about — ^and  hope  that  out  of  this  indis- 
criminate hodge-podge  of   "data"   some  illuminating 


The  Present  Situation  27 

principle  of  reorganization  will  miraculously  issue.  A 
few,  having  the  tolerant  patience  and  persistence  of 
the  scientist,  seem  willing  to  approach  the  situation 
tentatively,  with  hypotheses  of  possible  solution,  and 
to  try  endlessly  to  find  the  clue  to  the  mazes  of  con- 
temporary unrest.  The  hope  of  the  future  of  our  civ- 
ilization is  with  such  as  these  last  mentioned.  Follow- 
ing their  methods,  we  must  dig  deeper  into  the  actuali- 
ties of  present  community  life,  as  revealed  by  the  war, 
and  so  come  upon  the  more  fundamental  details  of  our 
problem. 

To  understand  the  actual  status  of  the  community 
we  must  consider  the  status  of  its  various  institutions 
and  interests.  Two  questions  arise  in  connection  with 
each  such  institution  or  interest :  first,  what  is  its  serv- 
ice to  individual  and  community  at  present?  Second, 
to  what  extent  does  this  service  foresee  and  make  pro^ 
vision  for  the  more  completely  democratic  community 
of  the  future  ? 

In  considering  industry  we  must  ask  not  merely 
whether  the  world  is  being  adequately  fed  and  housed, 
but  whether  the  instincts  and  habits  of  workmanship 
are  being  preserved  and  perpetuated.  For  obviously  it 
would  be  a  tragedy  if  any  particular  generation,  in 
the  process  of  its  own  feeding  and  housing,  should 
destroy  the  race's  capacity  for  work  or  its  desire  to 
work.  And  there  is  evidence  which  suggests  ^hat  in 
some  measure  that  is  happening  today.* 

♦Carlton:  The  Industrial  Situation, 


28  Community  Organisation 

In  considering  the  church  it  is  necessary  to  see  that 
not  only  must  certain  religious  needs  of  present  groups 
and  individuals  be  met,  but  the  ideal  aspirations  of 
future  generations  must  be  conserved.  And  there  is  evi- 
dence which  suggests  that  the  futility  of  many  present 
religious  activities  may  be  responsible  eventually  for 
the  discrediting  of  all  religious  interests. 

In  considering  the  school  we  must  ask  not  merely 
whether  children  are  taking  on  certain  conventional 
information,  but  whether  the  genuine  intellectual  life 
of  the  community  is  being  fostered  and  enriched.  And 
there  are  those  who  insist  that  the  present  school 
regime  is  slowly  destroying  all  originality  and  initia- 
tive on  the  part  of  children  for  the  sake  of  securing 
fixed  modes  of  thinking  and  conformity  to  traditional 
opinions. 

In  considering  the  state,  it  is  necessary  to  observe 
not  merely  whether  men  and  women  outwardly  con- 
form to  certain  forms  of  order,  but  whether  in  their 
intimate  relationships  in  the  small  and  large  com- 
munity life  a  finer  and  more  loyal  citizenship  is  de- 
veloping, and  whether  children  are  growing  up  to  take 
their  places  in  the  positive  social  order.  And  there  is 
evidence  which  suggests  that  many  are  receiving  a 
training  that  makes  them  despise  responsibility  and 
hope  to  escape  from  their  share  in  the  social  order. 

In  considering  the  home  we  must  consider  not  merely 
whether  the  community  is  filled  with  children  and  old 
primitive  instincts  are  glossed  over  with  a  conventional 


The  Present  Situation  29 

propriety,  but  we  must  make  sure  that  these  funda- 
mental energies  and  instincts  are  organizing  them- 
selves into  an  ever  richer  and  finer  community  life, 
through  which  children  can  grow  up  to  be  good  and 
still  be  natural. 

The  Status  of  Work — Hobson,  the  English  econo- 
mist, tells  us  that  there  are  three  effective  motivations 
underlying  human  labor :  First,  the  creative  impulse ; 
second,  the  impulse  of  service;  third,  the  desire  of 
gain.*  From  the  standpoint  of  individual  and  social 
welfare,  the  first  of  these  is  the  most  important.  But 
our  conventional  opinion  is  that  the  desire  for  gain  is 
the  only  "manly"  motive.  The  first  is  regarded  as  too 
poetical  for  this  rough  world;  and  the  second  seems 
effeminate.  The  result  is  that  men  must  express  them- 
selves in  a  more  or  less  skulking  way  in  these  two 
directions,  and  apologize  for  being  creative  or  in- 
terested in  service. 

Present  developments  in  the  industrial  world,  how- 
ever, seem  to  indicate  that  the  desire  for  pay  no  longer 
satisfies  the  worker.  Increased  wages  have  not  proved 
sufficient  to  hold  the  worker  to  his  job.  Increases  in 
pay  he  must  have,  of  course,  at  least  to  meet  the  pres- 
ent rise  in  prices.  But  recent  strikes  on  the  part  of 
men  who  have  had  wages  well  above  a  minimum  level 
indicate  that  they  have  not  been  striking  merely  for 
more  pay,  but  for  a  more  complete  share  in  the  con- 
trol of  industry. 

♦Hobson:  Democracy  After  the  War,  p.  30f, 


30  Community  Organisation 

That  is  to  say,  the  motive  of  gain  is  not  an  ade- 
quate basis  upon  which  to  build  the  structure  of  indus- 
try to-day.  The  mutual  interdependence  of  individuals 
and  groups  in  our  greatly  divided  systems  of  produc- 
tion makes  an  economic  conscience  necessary.  All 
groups  must  feel  the  responsibility  of  an  interdepend- 
ent service  to  one  another.  A  striking  group  of  rail- 
way workers  may  paralyze  the  industry  of  a  nation; 
but  the  plan  to  induce  them  to  return  to  work  by  brib- 
ing them  with  more  pay,  leaving  them  still  the  creatures 
of  work  conditions  over  which  they  have  no  control, 
will  not  long  solve  the  problem.  If  they  are  responsible 
for  the  welfare  of  other  groups  remote  from  their  own 
task,  they  must  not  be  put  in  the  impossible  posi- 
tion of  being  held  responsible  for  the  welfare  of  those 
groups  while  they  have  no  adequate  control  over  their 
own  industrial  destiny. 

Since  the  only  interest  the  worker  is  allowed  to  have 
in  the  industrial  situation  at  present  is  interest  in  his 
pay,  he  must  find  outlet  for  his  other  instincts  in  activi- 
ties incidental  to  the  main  industrial  process.*  Having 
no  property  interest  in  his  job  he  seeks  to  assure  his 
tenure  by  organization  on  the  one  hand,  and  on  the 
other  by  prolonging  the  industrial  process  through  the 
practice  of  sabotage.  Sabotage  even  becomes  artistic. 
Also  work  naturally  slows  down  because  the  stimulus 
is  too  remote  to  release  adequate  energy  for  the  task.f 

♦Daniel  Bloomfield:  Employment  Manaprement,  p.  9. 
Hocking:  Human  Nature  and  Its  Remaking,  Ch.  25.  Ross: 
Social  Psychology,  Ch.  7. 

fTressal:  The  Ragged  Trousered  Philanthropist. 


The  Present  Situation  31 

A  gradual  disintegration  of  old  work  habits  and  of 
old  natural  loyalties  follows,  and  with  this  a  disinte- 
gration of  the  older  types  of  workmanship. 

The  results  are:  first,  that  the  world  is  not  being 
adequately  fed  or  clothed  or  housed,  since  whole  na- 
tions as  well  as  individuals  are  existing  below  the 
level  of  normal  subsistence.  Second,  the  future  of 
work  is  very  insecure.  If  gain  is  the  only  "manly" 
motive  to  labor,  then  an  important  question  arises, 
"Why  should  men  work  when  they  have  money  in 
their  pockets?"  If  the  reply  is,  "Because  the  world 
needs  service" — then  the  reply  must  be  generalized, 
and  service  must  be  made  a  basic  motive  in  all  the  or- 
ganization of  industry.  This  would  be  a  great  step  in 
advance.  But  the  true  basis  of  industry  will  never  be 
achieved  until  once  again  the  basic  instincts  of  work- 
manship are  recognized  as  primary  elements  in  human 
nature,  and  are  given  a  real  place  in  the  motivations 
of  all  our  industrial  enterprises.  Until  that  time  comes 
industry  will  remain  in  a  precarious  condition.* 

The  Status  of  Government.  Traditional  political 
theories  assume  that  the  state  is  naturally  the  most  in- 
clusive social  institution  and  that,  whatever  other 
group  loyalties  the  individual  may  develop,  his  ulti- 
mate and  final  loyalty  must  always  be  to  the  state. 
This  theory,  however,  disregards  fundamental  ele- 
ments in  both  history  and  psychology.  Men  have  not 
always  been  loyal  first  of  all  to  the  state.    Religious 

♦Gantt:  Organization  for  Work.  Money:  The  Future  of 
Work.    Goldmark:  Fatigue. 


32  Community  Organisation 

institutions,  social  classes,  and  other  groups  have  not 
infrequently  formed  the  nucleus  of  threatened  or  overt 
rebellion  against  the  state.  Practically,  the  state  is 
simply  one  of  a  number  of  social  institutions  compe- 
ting for  the  loyalties  of  the  people. 

In  this  competition  the  state  has  not  always  acted 
wisely.  In  former  times,  when  the  masses  of  the  peo- 
ple were  ignorant  and  superstitiously  subordinate  to 
authority,  statesmen  learned  that  the  basis  of  the  state 
is  force;  hence  ever  since,  generally  speaking,  states 
have  scorned  to  attempt  to  approve  themselves  to  the 
native  loyalties  of  the  people,  and  have  been  inclined 
to  attempt  to  force  those  loyalties.  In  this  effort  the 
state  has  had  three  extraordinary  advantages :  first,  it 
has  had  control  of  sources  of  arbitrary  income 
through  taxation;  second,  it  has  had  the  power  of  cen- 
sorship over  the  means  of  public  information;  and 
third,  it  has  controlled  the  military  and  police  forces. 
It  has  been  able,  therefore,  to  suppress  active  disloy- 
alty, and  to  punish  outbreaks  against  authority.  The 
universal  theory  of  statesmanship  is  that  the  state 
should  be  a  sort  of  sublimated  policeman.  Few  states- 
men seem  to  be  able  to  imagine  any  more  democratic 
attitude. 

But  the  growth  of  intelligence  and  of  democratic 
aspirations  has  tended  to  destroy  the  foundations  of 
this  old  autocratic  conception  among  the  people.  At 
the  present  time  states  everywhere  are  face  to  face 
vith  the  practical  fact  of  the  revolt  of  large  groups 


The  Present  Situation  33 

against  arbitrary  authority.  In  recent  years  various 
authorities  within  our  national  and  state  governments 
have  laid  down  the  proposition  that  they  would  not 
treat  with  any  group  of  working  people  while  they 
were  on  strike.  The  striking  workers  must  first  sub- 
mit and  return  to  their  positions.  Under  such  a  prin- 
ciple as  this,  however,  public  officials  have  been  put 
in  the  ridiculous  position  of  being  told  that  whether 
they  recognized  the  striker  or  not  was  of  no  particu- 
lar importance.  Arbitrary  authority  dissolves  itself 
when  its  threats  go  too  far. 

A  democratic  state  seems  impossible  on  the  basis  of 
these  autocratic  administrative  attitudes.  It  is  quite 
likely  that  we  shall  either  have  to  return  to  a  com- 
pletely autocratic  political  structure  in  which  the 
outer  loyalties  of  the  people  are  held  together  by  force, 
or  else  we  shall  have  to  go  ahead  to  a  completely  dem- 
ocratic political  order  in  which  the  loyalties  of  the  peo- 
ple are  securely  centered  in  the  state  because  the  state 
is  the  most  dependable  instrument  of  the  people  in 
their  struggle  for  better  conditions.  No  state  can  long 
exist  that  does  not  know  whether  it  is  trying  to  be 
democratic  or  whether  it  prefers  to  be  autocratic — and 
few  states  to-day  know  which  they  are  determined  to 
be.* 

The  Status  of  Education — In  the  light  of  the  best 
democratic  theory  education  has  two  main  functions: 

*  Hocking:  op.  cit,  Ch.  28.  Laski:  The  Theory  of 
Sovereignty. 


34  Community  Organisation 

fkst,  it  must  help  communities  and  individuals  to 
know, — that  is,  to  become  acquainted  with  the 
world's  existent  knowledge  in  usable  forms;  second, 
it  must  continuously  seek  to  extend  the  ranges  of  hu- 
man knowledge  and  the  application  of  these  wider 
developments  to  the  solution  of  the  human  problems. 
But  this  democratic  theory  of  education  has  had  no 
very  wide  fulfillment.  Ostensibly  we  have  had  uni- 
versal education;  but  our  schools  have  been  hackneyed, 
pedantic,  narrow,  unsocial;  they  have  not  generally 
attempted  to  extend  knowledge  to  the  whole  com- 
munity, and  to  every  individual  in  usable  form.  The 
conception  o£  use  has  been  on  the  whole  foreign  to 
our  schools.  Indeed,  the  conception  of  an  intelligent 
community  has  not  been  wholly  acceptable  to  the  dom- 
inant group. 

As  for  the  second  function,  the  extension  of  the 
intellectual  life  of  the  community  has  been  feared 
rather  than  hoped  for.  We  have  passed  through,  in  the 
last  century,  several  distinct  fears :  the  fear  of  science, 
the  fear  of  evolution,  the  fear  of  the  critical  inter- 
pretation of  the  Bible  and  religion,  and  the  fear  that 
the  social  sciences  would  undermine  the  foundations 
of  social  order.  The  war  did  indeed  help  us  to  real- 
ize the  value  of  the  physical  sciences  in  the  prosecu- 
tion of  war.  But  it  is  not  at  all  certain  that  we  have 
secured  a  higher  standing  for  the  social  sciences — or 
for  the  spirit  of  science  generally.  The  task  of  mak- 
ing science,  i.  e.  critical  thinking,  an  acceptable  and 


The  Present  Situation  35 

integral  part  of  community  life  and  progress  lies 
almost  wholly  before  us. 

The  doctrine  of  heroic  endeavor  for  the  truth,  the 
more  complete  good,  as  exhibited  by  scientists  long 
dead  is  praised, — but  not  for  application  to-day.  There 
is  such  a  thing  as  knowing  too  much  for  the  good  of 
the  social  order.  Martin  Tupper  and  Samuel  Smiles 
have  been  our  true  philosophers  of  education.  Lead- 
ership in  moral  and  social  efforts  must  be  safe  and 
sane.  It  is  even  charged  by  some  that  education  in 
America  is  committed  to  a  program  of  Prussianizing 
the  schools,  to  the  end  that  a  small  number  of  the 
stronger  men  and  women  who  can  be  trusted  to  "be 
good"  will  be  selected  for  training  for  administrative 
positions  while  all  the  rest  will  be  discouraged  as  rap- 
idly as  possible,  until  they  drop  back  into  the  ranks 
and  lose  their  ambitions,  and  so  cease  to  be  potentially 
dangerous — through  having  an  education  that  is  too 
strong  for  their  sense  of  proportion. 

The  Prussianizing  effort  made  in  many  states  before 
the  war  (but  not  so  popular  now)  to  segregate  trade 
schools  from  the  liberal  schools  and  to  shunt  most  of 
the  working-class  children  into  the  former,  is  the 
most  extreme  illustration  of  this  determination  to  con- 
trol education  in  the  interest  of  the  status  quo. 

But  the  reactionary  plan  of  the  legislature  of  1920 
by  which  the  whole  educational  program  of  New  York 
State  was  to  be  subordinated  to  political  expediency  is 
a  very   striking  illustration   of   public    fear   of    free 


36  Community  Organisation 

intelligence.  Democracy  has  little  reason  for  assuming 
that  autocracy  will  easily  surrender  its  perquisites — 
even  in  the  field  of  education.* 

The  Status  of  the  Family — The  family  is,  historic- 
ally, a  variable  compromise  between  the  social  de- 
mands upon  men  and  women  for  a  sufficiently  stable 
system  to  provide  necessary  care  and  nurture  for  chil- 
dren and  the  more  or  less  lawless  and  exacting  de- 
mands of  sex  instinct.  This  institution  has  had  a 
wide  variety  of  forms,  ranging  through  many  types  of 
polygamy,  but  tending  more  and  more  in  modern  civ- 
ilization toward  an  absolute  monogamy.  The  family 
has  been  subject  in  all  ages  to  economic  and  social 
pressures  and  has  been  reconstructed  from  age  to  age 
to  meet  these  pressures.  But  little  by  little  through  the 
Christian  centuries,  the  monogamic  form  has  taken 
upon  itself  the  character  of  an  absolute  institution. 
In  the  church  marriage  has  been  one  of  the  sacra- 
ments, and  divorce  has  been  practically  prohibited. 

Hence  the  family  tends  to  be  looked  upon  as  an  in- 
stitution subject  in  no  way  to  the  reconstructive  criti- 
cisms of  social  conditions.  It  has  become  a  final  in- 
stitution tending  to  absolute  form  and  escaping  from 
the  realm  of  social  reconstruction  into  the  realm  of 
absolute  metaphysics.  Yet,  in  spite  of  this  the  fam- 
ily is  under  the  severest  pressure  from  many  points  of 
view  to-day. 

♦Dewey:  Education  and  Democracy.  Hart:  Democracy  in 
Education. 


The  Present  Situation  37 

Marriage  exists  for  three  fundamental  reasons: 
first,  to  assure  the  rearing  of  children  under  organized 
social  control;  second  to  protect  society  against  unin- 
telligent and  lawless  expression  of  the  sex  instinct 
while  assuring  individuals  those  satisfactions  which 
are  rooted  in  the  sex  characteristics  of  the  race;  third, 
to  protect  the  moral  integrity  and  personality  of  men 
and  women  in  their  sex  relationships. 

When  young  men  and  women  grew  up  together  in 
the  local  neighborhood,  played  together,  worked  to- 
gether, went  to  school  and  to  church  together  and 
shared  together  all  the  common  social  interests  of  the 
community,  they  came  to  know  each  other  sufficiently 
well  perhaps  to  be  able  to  make  fairly  wise  choices  in 
the  matter  of  marriage.  And  since  it  was  altogether 
likely  that  they  would  settle  down  in  the  same  local 
community  and  live  their  common  life  imder  the  same 
general  conditions  and  stimulations,  it  was  practically 
sure  that  whatever  moral  freedom  and  personal  de- 
velopment the  community  might  provide  would  come 
to  them  as  surely  in  the  marriage  relation  as  under  any 
other  conditions.  To  be  sure,  there  was  an  occasional 
tragedy,  due  not  infrequently  to  the  limited  size  of 
the  group  within  which  choice  was  possible,  thus 
forcing  uncongenial  natures,  in  order  to  be  married 
at  all,  into  impossible  connections.  In  the  main,  how- 
ever, that  homogeneous  community  life  found  in  the  in- 
stitution of  marriage  fairly  adequate  provision  for  the 
care  of  childhood,  for  the  organization  of  the  nor- 


38  Community  Organisation 

mal  satisfactions  of  sex,  and  for  the  moral  freedom  of 
men  and  women. 

The  modern  industrial  community  offers  an  en- 
tirely different  sort  of  problem.  Too  often  young 
men  and  women  have  no  adequate  chance  to  know 
each  other  in  any  complete  sense  before  they  are  mar- 
ried. They  may  meet  each  other  from  the  ends  of  the 
earth,  see  each  other  only  under  exceptional  condi- 
tions, choose  each  other  under  the  stress  of  any  sort 
of  motive,  even  the  most  momentary  or  the  most  sor- 
did. Even  if  they  had  known  each  other  well  before 
marriage,  the  modem  city  deals  with  the  man  and  the 
woman  differently;  and  after  marriage  they  may  well 
find  their  interests  running  in  variant  directions.  The 
man's  life  is  surrounded  by  all  the  stimulations,  exac- 
tions, and  allurements  of  the  city,  its  business,  its  in- 
dustry. Or  he  may  be  called  to  long  journeys  which 
may,  without  any  intent  on  his  part,  set  up  divergent 
lines  of  interest,  releasing  fundamental  instinctive  de- 
sires from  which  he  finds  it  hard  to  escape.  At  the 
same  time  the  wife,  if  she  stays  at  the  work  of  the 
home,  may  be  surrounded  by  the  most  petty  stimu- 
lations, in  which  she  may  find  little  or  no  satisfaction 
of  her  instincts.  As  a  result  she  may  develop  an  even 
narrower  outlook  upon  life.  Children  may  save  her 
from  pettier  concerns :  but  not  infrequently  suppressed 
desire  will  have  its  revenge,  and  lead  to  questionable 
teaching  about  the  nature  of  the  world,  so  that  th^ 
children  will  grow  up  with  distorted  views  of  life. 


The  Present  Situation  39 

On  the  other  hand,  if  the  woman  escapes  from  this 
environment,  if  she  goes  out  to  work,  achieves  eco- 
nomic independence  and  something  of  the  man's 
broader  range  of  stimulation,  she  runs  the  risk  of 
complete  aHenation  of  emotions  from  the  convention- 
aHty  of  the  home;  while  the  family  itself  is  in  danger 
of  complete  disintegration. 

When  two  individuals  are  thus  bound  together,  the 
result  may  be  disastrous  for  one  or  both  of  them — and 
for  society  as  a  whole,  if  they  are  compelled  to  sub- 
mit to  the  ultimate  terms  of  the  contract.  The  diffi- 
culty lies  in  determining  wherein  the  higher  good  may 
be  found.  Divorce  may  be  the  most  desirable  solution 
of  the  difficulty.  Certainly  only  a  particularly  stupid  so- 
ciety, that  is  to  say,  a  society  which  was  so  frightened 
by  the  thought  of  change  that  it  did, not  care  to  con- 
sider any  exceptions  to  its  traditional  principles,  would 
insist  upon  keeping  together  a  man  and  woman  whose 
natures  were  so  mutually  uncongenial  that  their  whole 
lives  were  thereby  continuously  hurt.  Of  course,  if 
there  were  children  the  situation  would  require  ex- 
tremely careful  handling. 

At  any  rate,  modern  industrial  civilization  faces  the 
task  of  re-thinking  the  ultimate  foundations  of  family 
life.  Economic  insecurity  is.  at  present  so  prevalent 
that  young  women  as  well  as  young  men  seek  to  assure 
themselves  that  they  can  be  self-supporting  at  need. 
This  introduces  a  large  element  of  risk  into  the  mar- 
riage relationship.   It  raises  the  whole  question  of  the 


40  Community  Organisation 

moral  freedom  and  personal  integrity  of  the  woman  in. 
the  case  and  makes  the  marriage  contract  much  more 
definitely  a  contract  between  two  equals.  For  this  rea- 
son society  may  find  it  necessary  eventually  to  modify 
the  terms  of  the  contract  under  which  they  think  they 
ag.ree  to  live  their  lives.  Certainly  no  one  can  at  the 
present  time  consider  carefully  the  ratio  of  divorces  to 
marriage  in  our  average  American  city  (in  some  in- 
stances reaching  25  per  cent)  and  contend  that  the 
marriage  institution  is  an  unquestioned  success. 

Some  sort  of  family  we  must  have  of  course  if  we 
are  to  have  any  sort  of  community.  But  it  must  be  a 
family  which,  while  providing  for  and  protecting  the 
children,  providing  for  and  regfulating  the  conditions 
under  which  normal  instinctive  satisfactions  of  life 
may  be  secured,  at  the  same  time  protects  and  pro- 
vides for  the  moral  freedom  and  the  personal  integrity 
of  both  the  woman  and  the  man.* 

But  all  these  considerations  are  so  closely  interwoven 
with  the  general  structure  of  our  society  that  it  is  likely 
they  must  all  be  solved  together. 

The  Status  of  Religion — One  of  the  definite  out- 
comes of  the  war  was  a  universal  criticism  of  organized 
religion.  In  the  first  place,  the  Christian  churches  of 
Europe  and  America  had  held  a  more  or  less  vague 
theory  that  Christianity  would  be  able  to  save  the 
world  from  any  further  devastating  wars.  But  1914 
disillusioned  the  world  of  this  hope;  Christianity  was 

*  Ellwood:  Sociology  and  Modern  Social  Problems,  Ch. 
4-8.    Burch  &  Patterson:  American  Social  Problems,  Ch.  22. 


The  Present  Situation  41 

no  more  able  to  save  the  world  from  war  than  was 
Socialism. 

Second,  the  war  having-  been  precipitated,  the  relig- 
ious forces  of  the  belligerent  groups  organized  for  the 
purpose  of  making  the  conflict  a  little  less  barbarous, 
at  least  so  it  was  claimed  on  the  side  of  the  Western 
Allies.  But  not  alone  in  Germany  did  the  ministers 
of  religion  come  to  be  preachers  of  the  doctrine  of 
hate.  In  England  and  America  the  most  primitive  and 
passionate  hatreds  were  expressed  by  ministers.  Not 
this  alone,  but  the  chief  representative  of  organized 
religious  activity  in  the  battle  area  came  out  of  the 
war  with  a  great  burden  of  discredit,  whether  rightly 
or  wrongly  earned. 

In  the  third  place,  since  the  war  the  voice  of  the 
church  has  scarcely  been  heard  in  protest  against  the 
dominance  of  force  in  the,  settlement  of  the  political 
and  economic  questions  of  the  world.  The  statesmen 
who  were  instrumental  in  precipitating  the  war,  and 
who  remain  to-day  in  charge  of  the  great  task  of  recon- 
struction, are  almost  wholly  committed  to  the  doctrine 
that  the  world  is  to  be  saved  by  force.  They  would 
bring  in  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven  by  violence.  And 
there  is  scarcely  a  Christian  leader  in  the  western 
world  brave  enough  to  challenge  this  program  or  intel- 
ligent enough  to  suggest  a  new  one  based  on  the  funda- 
mental Christian  principles.  So  neither  by  its  attitude 
before,  during,  or  since  the  war  does  the  Christian 
church  seem  to  have  enhanced  in  any  way  its  prestige. 


42  Community  Organization 

The  problem  as  it  appears  in  England  is  set  forth 
as  follows  by  a  leader  of  the  English  church:  "The 
next  general  election  will  put  in  a  Labor  Government, 
and  the  Labor  Government  will  introduce  a  bill  for 
the  disestablishment  and  disendowment  of  the  Church 
of  England.  This  bill  will  be  moved  by  no  hostility  to 
religion,  and  every  possible  consideration  will  be  shown 
the  clergy.  But  the  church  will  fight  it  in  every  parish, 
and  they  will  be  beaten,  and  still  further  discredited. 
Then  they  will  make  martyrs  out  of  themselves,  and 
compel  the  government  to  enact  a  more  drastic  bill 
which  will  bring  organized  religion  to  its  ultimate  ruin 
in  England." 

In  America  the  situation  has  some  signs  of  hopeful- 
ness.* In  the  great  Protestant  denominations,  in  the 
Catholic  and  Jewish  fellowships,  and  in  the  personnel 
of  the  Federal  Council  of  Churches,  there  are  some 
few  far-seeing  leaders  whose  essential  vision  is  a  great 
religion  of  democracy.  These  leaders  are  responsible 
for  some  significant  pronouncements  on  the  present 
industrial,  political,  and  social  situation.  If  these  mod- 
ern creeds  could  make  themselves  felt  in  the  characters 
and  conduct  of  the  adherents  of  these  fellowships, 
America  would  experience  a  profound  spiritual  revo- 
lution. The  fact  is,  however,  that  these  doctrines  are 
at  present  little  more  than  exhibits  of  the  hopefulness 
and  good  intentions  of  a  few  leaders.  The  religious 
forces  of  America  need  to  escape  from  their  shells  in 

♦Ward:  Christianity  and  the  New  Social  Order. 


The  Present  Situation  43 

church  edifices,  to  become  acquainted  with  the  great 
fundamentals  of  democracy  as  expressed  in  the  social 
sciences  and  the  labor  programs  of  the  day.  And  the 
church  needs  to  put  its  tremendous  ranges  of  moral 
energy  back  of  these  programs  until  democracy  be- 
comes a  practical  program  in  every  community  of  the 
nation. 

But  this  transformation  is  so  closely  knit  up  with 
the  whole  social  problem  of  our  time  that  it  cannot 
be  understood  apart  from  that  problem.  Religion  can- 
not go  ahead  and  leave  industry  behind.  The  status 
of  the  church  is  inextricably  bound  up  with  the  status 
of  industry. 

The  Status  of  Leisure — Nothing  shows  the  trend  of 
development  of  our  civilization  more  concretely  than 
the  facts  of  the  redistribution  of  leisure.*  Once  in 
history  all  the  leisure  belonged  to  one  group  while 
all  other  groups  could  claim  no  leisure  whatever  as 
a  right.  This  fact  impressed  itself  even  upon  educa- 
tion. The  liberal  education  of  the  past  was  an  edu- 
cation fitted  to  the  liher,  that  is  the  free  man,  the 
man  who  never  intended  to  work.  Over  against 
this  we  find  not  a  vocational  education,  but  a  serv- 
ile education,  the  education  of  the  servus,  or  slave. 
History  might  be  told  in  the  story  of  the  struggle  of 
the  servile  and  working  groups  to  achieve  some  ade- 
quate share  in  the  leisure  of  life.  That  movement  has 
made   rapid   progress   in   recent   decades   and   seems 

♦Lee:  Play  in  Educatipn, 


44  Community  Organisation 

determined  to  find  its  outcome  in  the  definite  establish- 
ment of  a  working  day  within  which  in  any  particular 
industry  the  individual  can  be  most  productive.  All 
other  time  will  be  leisure  time. 

But  we  have  not  yet  reached  that  solution.  A  state- 
ment made  by  Jane  Addams  some  years  ago  sets  the 
problem  of  the  present.  Young  people,  she  says,  worn 
out  by  long  hours  of  uninteresting  toil  in  factories, 
must  spend  their  earnings  in  purchasing  cheap  recrea- 
tion in  the  evenings  and  on  holidays  so'  that  they  shall 
be  sufficiently  renewed  in  their  energies  to  enable  them 
to  return  to  their  work.  A  vicious  round  of  uninteres- 
ting industry  and  sordid  amusement  devours  them. 

Leisure  time  has  been  necessary  to  the  development 
of  the  arts  and  the  creation  of  beauty.  And  even  in 
the  midst  of  the  sordid  commercialized  amusements 
and  recreations  of  our  modern  cities,  beauty  is  still  an 
evident  motive.  By  the  very  nature  of  their  being, 
young  people  demand  some  share  in  the  l)eauty  of  the 
world.  Work  as  organized  in  modern  factories  pre- 
sents few  chances  for  the  expression  of  our  instinctive 
lives.  It  is  unreal,  mechanical,  meaningless,  routine. 
We  have  all  had  the  feeling  that  the  job  we  were 
working  at  had  lost  its  significance,  bringing  no  real 
satisfactions.  Thousands  of  young  people  in  our  cities 
are  in  that  situation,  and  are  struggling  in  every  pos- 
sible desperate  direction  to  find  some  real  satisfaction. 

This  is  most  seriously  true  as  it  appears  in  the  rela- 


The  Present  Situation  45 

tionship  of  the  sexes.  The  one  lasting  and  permanent 
thing  in  the  world  is  human  instinct,  and  the  most 
exacting  human  instinct  is  that  of  sex.  We  are  not 
here  so  much  concerned  with  the  personal  fact  of  sex 
relationships  as  with  the  long  story  of  the  human  gen- 
erations. This  inaudible  call  of  the  long  generations 
takes  hold  upon  boys  and  girls  and  makes  them  seek 
for  chances  to  know  each  other,  and  for  the  realization 
of  every  possible  touch  of  beauty,  of  fundamental  fel- 
lowship, and  love.  This  instinctive  expression  is  not 
primarily  personal;  it  is  the  vital  fact  in  the  life  of  the 
race,  the  call  of  the  untold  generations  of  men.  And  in 
our  larger  communities  we  have  dealt  with  it  not  in- 
telligently, as  if  it  were  important  in  the  long  story  of 
humanity,  but  commercially,-  as  if  it  were  something 
to  be  endlessly  exploited  for  profit.  And  so  we  have 
filled  leisure  time  with  sordid  amusements,  exploiting 
the  deepest  instincts,  and  degrading  natural  beauty  to 
the  level  of  vulgar  pictures  and  blatant  music. 

Our  natural  capacity  for  play  has  largely  been  lost 
through  the  pressures  of  industry,  the  commercializa- 
tion of  amusement  and  recreation,  and  the  specializa- 
tion of  games  such  as  baseball  and  football.  We  take 
our  play  vicariously,  and  pay  for  it  out  of  our  work- 
day wages.  The  thrills  of  excitement  we  enjoy  are  our 
heritage  from  an  ancestry  that  did  not  live  its  life 
vicariously,  but  actively,  precariously. 

The  substitution  of  passive  amusement  of  a  morbidly 


46  Community  Organization 

over-stiniulating  sort  for  the  old-time  active  participa- 
tion in  play  and  recreation  leaves  the  modern  nervous 
system  unsatisfied,  and  the  demand  for  expression 
repressed  and  dull.  Baseball  crazes  have  tended  to 
destroy  play  in  three  ways :  First,  by  helping  the 
community  forget  its  older  folk  games — the  old  group 
games  of  country-side  memory;  second,  by  attempting 
to  teach  baseball  before  boys  have  the  neutral  develop- 
ment to  stand  the  strains  of  team  games — so  that 
among  such  boys  the  game  generally  develops  into  a 
wrangle;  third,  by  pretty  largely  eliminating  the  girls 
from  all  participation  in  play.  The  older  games  in- 
cluded both  boys  and  girls  without  sex  discrimination, 
solely  on  the  basis  of  ability  to  play. 

The  future  of  the  more  normal  democratic  com- 
munity is  bound  up  with  a  more  intelligent  understand- 
ing of  the  significance  of  leisure  time,  the  spirit  of  play, 
and  the  conservation  of  those  essentially  educational 
and  humanizing  games  which  the  race  has  developed 
in  its  long  history,  but  which  we  are  now  in  danger 
of  losing  under  the  false  demand  that  everything  shall 
be  made  to  pay. 

Groups  That  Do  Not  Belong — Every  community 
in  modern,  complex  society  has  always  had  its 
"hangers-on" — individuals,  families,  or  groups.  The 
community  has,  as  we  have  seen,  always  tended  to 
organize  itself  so  as  to  leave  some  on  the  outside. 
These  may  be  defective  or  inefficient  individuals  or 
groups;  or  they  may  be  individuals  or  groups  who 


The  Present  Situation  A7 

are  unassimilable  for  some  particular  racial,  cul- 
tural lingual,  economic,  or  psychological  reason.  These 
may  be  merely  queer,  or  they  may  be  a  dangerous 
menace. 

One  of  the  unforeseen  results  of  the  war  has  been 
the  tremendous  increase  in  the  number  of  these 
excluded  groups.  This  is  partly  due  to  the  fact  that 
certain  racial  and  cultural  groups  did  perhaps  offer  a 
distinct  menace  to  national  security  in  war  time.  This 
became  so  grave,  and  propaganda  with  reference  to  it 
so  exciting,  that  a  state  of  terror  arose  in  many  parts 
of  the  country,  breaking  out  into  actual  terrorism. 
Officers  of  the  law  even  were  not  above  counseling: 
"If  you  have  any  reason  to  suspect  your  neighbor  of 
coolness  toward  the  nation,  do  not  wait  to  investi- 
gate; shoot  him  up  first,  and  investigate  afterwards!" 

Since  the  war  this  intolerance  of  particular  groups 
has  established  itself  in  the  form  of  closed  standards 
of  membership  which,  while  expressed  in  general 
terms,  are,  like  any  standard,  subject  to  particular  in- 
terpretations in  local  communities  over  the  country.  In 
some  places  "100  per  cent  Americanism"  includes  all 
those  virile  and  vigorous  elements  which  have  at  any 
time  helped  in  the  making  of  America  and  which  must 
be  saved  if  our  American  communities  are  not  to  per- 
ish of  stagnation,  while  in  other  localities  these  stand- 
ards are  so  narrowly  interpreted  as  to  bring  under  sus- 
picion anyone  who  is  not  lined  up  with  some  accepted 
political  party  or  social,  business,  or  fraternal  organ- 


48  Community  Organisation 

ization  of  a  peculiarly  conservative  type.  The  plight  of 
some  of  these  groups  is  particularly  distressing.  Nar- 
row-minded bureaucrats,  public  officials  trying  to  make 
political  capital  out  of  unworthy  persecutions,  and 
petty  despots  in  local  communities  all  over  the  country, 
vie  with  each  other  for  supremacy  in  ignorant  and 
brutal  repression. 

If  we  add  to  these  groups  emphasized  by  war-time 
conditions  those  older  economic  groups  that  have  long 
been  victims  of  industrial  exploitation,  and  all  the  array 
of  defective,  delinquent,  criminal,  diseased,  poverty- 
stricken,  and  outcast  groups  that  long  have  lived  upon 
the  fringes  of  our  communities — preying  upon  the 
more  healthy  life — we  shall  be  able  to  present  to  our- 
selves this  phase  of  the  serious  problem  which  the  com- 
munity organization  of  the  future  faces. 

Here,  then,  are  large  numbers  who  "do  not  belong." 
This  in  itself  shows  the  task  of  the  future  of  com- 
munity. There  can  be  no  community  until  these  are 
either  eliminated  from  the  community  milieu,  or  are 
included  within  the  community.  No  community  can 
exist  with  such  a  fringe  of  individuals  or  groups  neither 
inside  nor  outside.  They  are,  from  the  standpoint  of 
the  community's  health,  like  a  foreign  body  in  the 
system;  they  must  be  understood  and  dealt  with  intel- 
ligently or  they  will  destroy  the  community. 

Now  and  again  national  leaders  like  Jane  Addams 
have  argued  eloquently  for  the  understanding  of  this 
situation,  and  its  intelligent  handling.    The  problem 


The  Present  Situation  49 

goes  to  the  roots  of  community;  and  it  will  never  be 
solved  until  we  are  ready  to  attack  the  whole  prob- 
lem of  community.  It  is  one  with  all  the  other  social 
problems  that  we  face;  its  solution  is  involved  in  the 
solution  of  these  other  problems,  that  is,  in  the  develop- 
ment of  the  reality  of  community.  ' 


CHAPTER  III 

THE  INDIVIDUAL  AS  THE  BASIS  OF  COMMUNITY 

This  task  of  community  organization  involves  the 
development  of  a  social  order  inclusive  enough,  rich 
enough,  varied  enough,  stimulating  enough  to  reach 
every  normal  human  being;  to  transform  all  our  com- 
mon social  institutions  into  instruments  of  service, 
and  to  compete  with  all  lesser  elements  for  the  loyalty 
and  support  of  the  individual.  The  individual  must  be 
"on  the  inside."  What  are  the  bases  of  such  a  com- 
munity in  the  motivations  of  the  individual?  What  in 
his  own  nature  will  hold  him  to  this  community,  and 
at  the  same  time  give  to  his  life  the  conditions  of  nor- 
mal development? 

The  primitive  basis  of  community  life  was  tradition 
and  custom,  which  when  taken  on  effectively  by  the 
new  individual  became  habit.  Such  a  community  is 
the  most  stable  imaginable,  as  long  as  conditions  re- 
main unchanged.  The  community  of  custom  exists  in 
the  individual  as  a  structure  of  habits.  Until  the  mid- 
dle of  the  nineteenth  century  society  was  both  by  theory 
and  practice  committed  to  a  program  of  inertia;  the 
conception  of  a  created,  finished,  stationary  universe 
came  to  us  out  of  the  Orient,  where  practically  all 

50 


The  Individual  as  the  Basis  of  Community      51 

activity  was  unpleasant  and  where  a  curse  had  been 
pronounced  upon  work.  This  conception  carried  over 
into  the  aristocratic  social  orders  of  Europe,  and  main- 
tained itself  through  all  the  Middle  Ages.  It  was 
wrought  into  the  structure  of  the  political  life,  indus- 
try, the  social  order,  religion,  and  education.  It  was 
sanctified  by  the  theology  of  the  time,  and  bolstered 
up  by  the  fears  of  anarchy  and  the  terrors  of  the 
migrating  barbarian  hosts. 

But  this  theory  could  not  handle  the  element  of  im- 
pulse and  instinct  in  human  life  save  on  the  basis  of 
the  doctrine  of  total  depravity  and  the  necessity  of 
repression.  The  Middle  Ages  found  its  greatest  sub- 
ject of  learned  disputation  in  the  conflict  between  habit 
and  impulse,  i.  e.,  between  fixed  institutions  and  the 
innovating  spirit.  This  problem  aroused  an  age-long 
discussion  as  to  the  legitimacy  of  aspirations  and  ideals 
which  spring  out  of  new  conditions  of  living,  and 
which  therefore  call  in  question  old  institutional  atti- 
tudes. This  discussion  took  on  at  times  the  most  fan- 
tastic forms,  forms  which  have  been  the  occasion  of 
ridicule  by  the  ignorant  ever  since.  But  it  is  certain 
that  there  is  no  more  important  question  in  human  so- 
ciety to-day  than  that  of  the  relationship  between  old 
habit  and  new  initiative. 

Then  in  the  nineteenth  century  the  doctrine  of  evo- 
lution destroyed  the  theoretical  foundations  of  that  old 
system  except  for  the  constitutional  and  isolated  tra- 
ditionalists. From  this  time  on,  theoretically,  the  world 


52  Community  Organisation 

and  human  life  are  in  constant  movement,  going  either 
forward  or  backward  with  every  change  in  the  condi- 
tions of  Hving.  But  this  is  another  hard  lesson  to 
learn,  and  few  there  be  that  learn  it. 

For  most  practical  purposes  life  still  runs  on  in  the 
accustomed  grooves  of  habit,  and  will  continue  to  do 
so.  Even  our  American  democracy  has  not  widely 
learned  that  social  health  means  continuous  progress 
and  reconstruction.  The  sense  of  the  finality  of  our 
institutions  still  hangs  like  a  mediaeval  shadow  over  all 
our  democratic  landscape.  The  suggestion  of  change 
irritates  men  instinctively.  Old  institutions  and  even 
old  abuses  have  achieved  actual  substance,  and  intel- 
ligence and  aspiration  are  forever  on  the  defensive. 

But  the  world  has  been  severely  shaken  in*  its  old 
habits  and  customs  and  it  seems  certain  that  no  social 
order  can  ever  again  hope  to  hold  its  members  in 
control  by  surrounding  them  with  any  such  hard  "cake 
of  custom."  Individuals  everywhere  are  breaking 
through :  the  feelings  of  repression  and  suppression 
are  dissipating,  and  individuals  are  being  released  into 
the  chaos  of  broken  habits.  This  has  often  happened 
in  the  past.  Always  it  has  aroused  the  fears  of  the 
fearful — lest  the  whole  universe  should  revert  to  chaos. 
Always  it  has  called  for  a  more  adequate  interpreta- 
tion of  the  world,  a  reorganization  of  psychology  and 
social  theory  in  the  light  of  the  new  facts,  and  a  recon- 
struction of  all  institutional  relationships  on  the  basis 
of  this  more  adequate  theory. 


The  Individual  as  the  Basis  of  Community      ^3 

If  habit  and  custom  cannot  be  depended  upon,  what 
shall  take  their  place  in  the  maintenance  of  a  stable 
community  life?  Such  a  question  must  find  its  pre- 
liminary answer  in  the  experience  of  the  race.  When 
the  old  habits  and  customs  broke  down  in  Greece  and 
a  new  basis  of  social  order  was  needed,  what  substi- 
tute could  be  found  to  bind  the  individual  back  again 
into  the  common  life  of  the  group  ? 

Socrates  thought  naively  enough  that  intelligence 
could  take  the  place  of  habit.  But  this  was  such  mons- 
trous doctrine  that  he  was  put  to  death  for  corrupting 
the  youth  of  Athens.  Plato  undertook  to  carry  out 
his  suggestion  more  at  length,  but  succeeded  only  in 
substituting  a  somewhat  more  elaborate  program  oi 
habit  for  the  old  habit  that  was  broken  down.  And 
because  in  the  breakdown  of  habit  certain  native 
impulses  had  been  released  and  certain  fears  of  the 
undisciplined  masses  of  men  had  arisen,  Plato,  holding 
that  the  most  effective  motivation  in  the  lives  of  the 
common  masses  of  men  was  appetite,  thought  that  the 
only  way  they  could  be  kept  in  control  was  through  the 
existence  of  a  trained  military  group.  For  appetite  is 
afraid  of  nothing  but  the  soldier  and  the  policeman. 
Fear  of  the  military  became  the  basic  element  in  Plato's 
plan  for  the  control  of  the  masses  of  men. 

During  the  Middle  Ages  religious  terrors  were  in- 
voked to  give  added  force  to  these  controls,  and  the 
fear  of  hell  helped  to  keep  various  social  classes  in 
their  proper  places.  For  many  centuries  the  world  was 


54  Community  Organisation 

ruled  in  this  way.  To  a  large  extent  the  development 
of  law  among  Anglo-Saxon  peoples  was  based  on  the 
reputed  psychological  principle  that  fear  and  terror  are 
the  most  effective  deterrents  to  crime. 

But  it  is  evident  that  fear  can  be  overdone.  Fear 
may  even  back-fire.  The  propaganda  of  fear  may  be 
carried  too  far,  and  the  fear-inculcating  minority  may 
themselves  become,  afraid.  This  seems  to  have  hap- 
pened in  Germany,  and  to  have  hastened  the  collapse 
of  German  resistance  at  the  close  of  the  war. 

From  another  point  of  view,  fear  may  produce  just 
the  opposite  of  the  effect  intended.  " Schrecklichkeit" 
was  overworked  in  war-time,  until  the  opponents  of 
Germany  lost  their  fear  of  fear.  "Americans  do  not 
fear,"  we  said  in  war-time,  meaning  that  we  do  not 
fear  Germans.  It  remains  to  be  seen  whether  we  fear 
our  own  past,  our  own  institutions,  our  own  oppressive 
officials.  But  it  seems  certain  that  in  these  days  of  in- 
creasing critical  intelligence,  no  government  can  long 
endure  on  the  basis  of  fear.  Thunders  no  longer  drop 
from  the  skies  at  the  call  of  conservatives,  political  or 
religious.  So  while  some  old  habit  remains,  and  some 
old  fear,  not  enough  of  either  is  left  to  serve  as  the 
foundation  of  a  stable  social  order. 

Another  widely  accepted  theoretical  basis  of  secure 
social  order  was  set  forth  in  the  early  decades  of  the 
nineteenth  century  in  the  writings  of  the  so-called  utili- 
tarians.    Bentham,  by  identifying  pleasure  with  hap- 


The  Individual  as  the  Basis  of  Community      55 

piness  and  pain  with  unpleasantness,  was  able  to  argue 
that  pleasure  and  pain  represent  the  most  universal 
human  motives  and  that,  therefore,  these  can  be  the 
basis  of  a  secure  political  order.  He  believed,  and  his 
own  and  later  psychology  taught  and  attempted  to 
prove,  that  men  act  primarily  for  the  purpose  of  secur- 
ing or  enhancing  pleasures  or  avoiding  pain. 

But  here  again  the  parts  are  very  easily  reversed. 
Pleasure  is  not  identical  with  happiness  and  pain  may 
be  very  far  removed  from  the  unpleasant.  Pleasure 
surfeits  quickly,  and  becomes  disagreeable;  pain  re- 
fines and  purifies — ^at  least  sometimes.  Men  do  not 
lightly  choose  the  way  of  pleasure.  In  all  times  of 
stress  and  crisis  they  tend  to  choose  the  harder  way; 
and  in  their  very  sufferings  and  even  death  find  exqui- 
site happiness.  A  state  or  community  built  on  the  sup- 
position that  men  are  ruled  by  their  pleasures  would 
not  last.  There  is  at  present  no  way  of  determining 
whether  any  particular  man  would  choose  the  way  of 
pleasure  or  the  way  of  pain.  And  determining  that 
matter  for  one  individual  would  probably  throw  only 
incidental  light  on  the  conduct  of  any  other  individual. 
Community  cannot  ignore  these  motives;  but  neither, 
can  it  build  securely  upon  them. 

Another  group  of  theorists  finds  the  secure  basis  of 
social  order  and  community  in  the  principle  of  Good 
Will,  of  Sympathy  and  of  Love.  For  these  the  "Broth- 
erhood of  Man"  seems  to  represent  not  only  the  ulti- 


56  Community  Organisation 

mate  ideal,  but  a  very  possible  ideal.  They  feel  in  it  a 
very  definite,  even  final  appeal :  "Beyond  all  nations  is 
humanity !" 

There  is  a  certain  instinctive  quality  here,  a  sort  of 
"consciousness  of  kind."  All  types  of  internationalist 
groups  have  been  declaring  this  doctrine  for  many 
decades;  many  had  even  gone  so  far  as  to  hold  that 
these  international  bonds  of  "good  will"  would  be 
sufficient  to  prevent  wars  in  the  future;  but  the  experi- 
ences of  the  past  five  years  have  denied  that  hope,  at 
least  for  the  present  and  under  forms  of  organization 
developed  to  date. 

The  fact  is  that  this  so-called  "consciousness  of  kind" 
has  been  modified  by  many  sorts  of  traversing  preju- 
dices: tribal,  clannish,  national,  cultural;  prejudices 
of  sex,  color,  race,  social  caste,  and  the  like,  until  sym- 
pathy seems  all  but  lost  under  the  accumulative  antipa- 
thies of  the  ages.  Our  prejudices  are  too  strong  for  our 
loves  in  too  many  instances.  Our  fears  paralyze  our 
good  wills.  Our  public  opinion  is  too  fully  controlled 
by  old  prejudicial  influences  to  be  trusted, — and  even 
when  sympathy  seems  called  for  we  cannot  tell  whether 
we  are  being  deceived  or  not.  Sophistication  and  dis- 
illusionment make  us  wary.  The  doctrine  of  love  is 
frowned  upon  by  certain  types  of  workers  who  would 
substitute  statistics  for  sympathy  and  a  case-record 
for  good  will.  Professional  mendicants,  etc.,  lend  sup- 
port to  tjie  contention  that  sympathy  does  more  harm 
than  good  in  the  modern  city.    A  community  based 


The  Individual  as  the  Basis  of  Community      57 

entirely  on  good  will  or  sympathy  or  love  could  prob- 
ably not  long  endure.  As  the  British  Labor  Party  says  : 
"The  Labor  Party  has  no  belief  in  any  of  the  problems 
of  the  world  being  solved  by  good  will  alone.  Good 
will  without  knowledge  is  warmth  without  light." 

Habit  will  be  always  with  us.  Some  will  always 
seek  to  creep  into  the  grooves  of  social  habit  and  shut- 
tle back  and  forth  in  a  fixed  routine.  It  was  never 
more  possible  than  to-day  for  this  to  happen.  And  all 
will  occasionally  long  for  some  secure  retreat.  But 
community  organization  involves  the  continuous  re- 
direction of  one  and  another  aspect  of  social  habit  into 
lines  of  new  growth  and  more  complete  development. 

Fear  is  permanent  in  human  nature.  Some  of  us  will 
always  be  subject  to  fear,  perhaps,  and  all  of  us  some- 
times, though  the  incidence  of  fear  upon  conduct  grows 
less  year  by  year,  save  in  those  moments  when  some 
great  crisis  looms  upon  us.  But  community  organiza- 
tion involves  the  gradual  elimination  of  the  more  deadly 
and  degrading  fears  of  the  past,  such  as  the  fears  of 
poverty,  starvation,  limitless  punishments,  hell,  and  the 
like. 

Pleasure  and  pain  we  shall  always  know,  and  hap- 
piness will  ever  be  one  of  the  haunting  hopes  of  the 
race.  But  we  shall  be  less  and  less  guided  by  these 
feelings  in  our  mature  conduct.  They  will  be  the  by- 
products of  our  living  and  the  indexes  of  our  capacity 
to  live  effectively,  not  the  actual  guides  of  living.  Com- 
munity organization  will  involve  the  development  of  a 


58  Community  Organisation 

social  order  which  will  select  and  intensify  the  nobler 
pleasures ;  leave  some  adequate  room  for  the  pains  that 
refine  and  purify  our  pleasures;  and  some  real  oppor- 
tunity, if  not  for  the  actual  pursuit,  at  least  for  the 
enjoyment  of  the  happiness  that  may  come  as  the  result 
of  living. 

Good  will,  sympathy,  love,  and  even  hate,  we  shall 
have  with  us  always :  love  of  the  good,  of  the  humane, 
of  the  nobly  fine;  hate  of  the  evils,  the  diseases,  the 
ignoble  natures,  and  the  vested  wrongs  of  our  common 
life.  Community  organization  must  provide  adequate 
room  for  the  holier  loves  and  the  nobler  hates  of  our 
liberated  human  nature. 

But  until  our  living  rises  above  the  mere  level  of 
this  emotional  life  and  of  the  life  of  habit  likewise,  the 
world  will  not  be  wholly  human;  and  the  world's 
greatest  need  is  the  truly  human  community.  Habit  is 
primarily  a  function  of  neural  mechanism  in  the  spinal 
cord :  a  common  illustration  of  habit  is  found  in  "stub- 
bornness," when,  as  we  say,  we  "get  our  backs  up," 
that  is,  when  the  spinal  cord  takes  control  of  our  con- 
duct. Emotion,  on  its  physiological  side,  is  a  function 
of  the  ductless  glands  of  the  body.  As  we  raise  the 
controls  of  our  conduct  to  the  level  of  the  higher  nerve 
centers,  the  brain  and  cerebral  cortex,  we  shall  rise 
above  these  old,  stubborn  customs,  these  old,  unintelli- 
gent, balking  habits;  and  above  the  thrills  of  emotion 
with  which  the  secretions  of  the  ductless  glands  infuse 
our  blood.    We  shall  come,  slowly  but  surely,  to  the 


The  Individual  as  the  Basis  of  Community      59 

clearer  outlooks  of  intelligence  and  critical  understand- 
ing. We  need  a  community  controlled  by  the  brain 
of  the  race,  not  by  its  spinal  cord  or  its  ductless  glands. 
The  secure  basis  of  the  democratic  community  of  the 
future  will  be  found  in  this  critical  understanding 
which  will  include  understanding  of  habit  and  emotion 
and  all  the  conditions  of  our  common  living. 

But  this  is  difficult  to  secure.  Men  love  their  old 
habits  and  customs,  even  while  they  suffer  from  them; 
and  they  enjoy  the  experience  of  emotions  which  are 
dissipative  of  energy  if  not  destructive;  while  they  find 
intelligence  sometimes  cold  and  inhuman  or  at  least 
cool  and  calculating.  Spuming  all  habit,  intellect  may, 
in  its  unwisdom,  attempt  to  discredit  and  even  to  de- 
stroy the  past.  Rising  above  all  emotion,  it  may  deny 
the  commonest  human  responsibilities,  and  all  the  play 
of  feeling  and  instinct  with  their  fundamental  satis- 
factions. 

Community  organization  will  be  a  function  of  this 
finer  social  intelligence,  but  this  intelligence  must  be 
kept  genuinely  human.  This  means  that  the  bearer  of 
it,  the  individual,  must  himself  become  a  real  com- 
munity. A  time-honored  theory  of  the  individual  as- 
sumes that  he  comes  into  the  world  ready-made.  All 
his  experiences  are  external  to  him,  and  all  his  accom- 
plishments are  hung  on  him  like  gifts  upon  a  Christ- 
mas tree.  All  the  experiences  of  life  remain  external 
to  his  real  nature,  and  at  the  end  he  sloughs  them  off 
and  returns  to  the  heaven  of  pure  spirits. 


60  Community  Organisation 

A  more  recent  theory  assumes  his  continuity  with 
the  processes  of  growth  and  development  in  the  world. 
He  is  wrought  of  many  lines  of  ancestry,  and  many 
strata  of  racial  experience;  he  is  primitively  a  bundle 
of  conflicting  instincts,  impulses,  feelings,  and  desires. 
His  experiences  are  real  and  internal,  and  all  the  ex- 
periences of  life  which  count  with  him  are  real  and 
internal.  His  great  task  through  the  plastic  years  is 
to  organize  a  unity  of  feeling,  purpose,  and  life-pro- 
gram out  of  these  conflicting  interests.  He  enters  into 
the  life  of  the  community  in  all  its  varied  interests  in 
this  process,  and  he  becomes  as  much  of  a  community 
within  himself  as  the  social  order  and  the  traditional 
controls  about  him  permit  him  to  become.  He  builds 
up  a  structure  of  community  habit  within  himself;  he 
grows  into  the  common  emotional  experiences  of  the 
group.  In  this  way  he  could  be  led  to  take  upon  him- 
self the  goods  and  the  evils  of  his  group;  to  see  the 
problems  of  the  community  as  his  problems :  its  health 
as  his  health ;  its  diseases  as  his  diseases ;  its  enemies  as 
his  enemies ;  its  defeats  as  his  defeats ;  its  friends  as  his 
friends;  its  victories  as  his  victories;  its  gods  as  his 
gods. 

In  the  fully  integrated  smaller  community  of  the 
primitive  past  special  ceremonials  helped  to  make  the 
adolescent  experiences  of  children,  especially  the  boys, 
particularly  significant  in  the  development  of  this  sense 
of  community.  In  historic  times  the  Greek  festival  in 
which  the  young  man  gave  over  his  youth  and  took 


The  Individual  as  the  Basis  of  Community      61 

upon  himself  the  responsibilities  of  adult  life  afforded 
a  like  opportunity.  In  the  presence  of  all  the  people  he 
took  the  Ephebic  Oath,  in  which  he  vowed  lasting 
fealty  to  the  community,  both  alone  and  with  many, 
and  swore  that  he  would  transmit  the  community  to 
future  generations  fairer  and  better  than  he  found  it. 
If  the  individual  is  really  to  become  a  full  member 
of  a  community  he  must  become  something  of  a  com- 
munity within  himself.  He  must  have  the  habits  and 
customs  of  the  community  and  something  of  its  truest 
emotions,  its  hopes  and  fears,  its  loves  and  hates,  its 
wider  interests  and  its  lasting  responsibilities.  Thus 
he  will  become  not  only  a  real  member  of  the  com- 
munity, but  the  community  itself  will  live  and  be  se- 
cure in  him:  in  his  habits  the  guarantee  of  its  con- 
tinuity and  stability,  in  his  innovating  impulses  the 
guarantee  of  its  vital  criticism,  and  in  his  growing 
intelligence  the  guarantee  of  its  continuous  recon- 
struction. 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE  FUNCTION  OF  THE  SOCIAL  SCIENCES 

The  community,  as  we  have  seen  in  an  earlier  chap- 
ter, "is  not  SO  much  a  definite  and  concrete  group  which 
all  may  see  and  immediately  apprehend.  It  is  rather  an 
informing  concept,  a  social  ideal.  Hence,  it  exists  at 
present  mainly  in  the  social  imagination  of  individuals. 
Outside  the  individual  it  may  be  little  more  than  a 
phrase — easily  mouthed  and  easily  lost." 

Community  cannot  exist  in  the  casual  feelings  and 
temporary  opinions  of  individuals  to-day.  The  primi- 
tive community  could  exist  in  the  immediate  experience 
of  its  members.  Certain  modern  cities  have  grown 
through  the  development  and  merging  of  many  little 
village  communities.  In  these  mergings  crooked  streets 
have  had  to  be  straightened;  divergent  streets  have 
had  to  be  made  to  meet;  various  levels  of  traffic  have 
had  to  be  brought  to  a  uniform  grade;  and  village 
minds,  village  manners,  customs  and  standards,  have 
had  to  be  slowly  reconstructed  to  meet  the  needs  of 
the  cosmopolitan  area.  This  has  required  vigorous 
criticism,  city  planning,  and  a  reconstructive  program 
of  life  generally.  Generalizing  such  a  development  we 
get  the  organized   sciences,   social   and   engineering, 

62 


The  Function  of  the  Social  Sciences  63 

which,  examining  every  particular  item  of  the  problem, 
work  out  from  all  the  data  the  fairly  permanent  and 
stable  elements  of  an  organized  program  which  can  be 
made  the  basis  of  the  community  on  this  larger  scale. 

In  this  sense  political  science  hopes  to  take  the  place 
of  mere  political  tradition  in  the  guidance  of  the  larger 
community;  economic  science  would  take  the  place  of 
economic  tradition  and  common  practices  in  the  organ- 
ization of  the  industry  and  business  of  the  community; 
social  ethics  would  come  in  to  reorganize  the  customary 
moralities  of  the  villages ;  and  a  broad  educational  pro- 
gram would  take  the  place  of  the  primitive  schooling  of 
the  village.  The  hope  of  community,  local,  national  and 
international,  is  the  world's  greatest  hope,  and  in  the 
furtherance  of  this  hope  social  intelligence  is  justified 
in  attempting  to  break  down,  not  ruthlessly  and  igno- 
rantly,  but  carefully,  thoughtfully  and  yet  persistently, 
all  intervening  obstructions.  This  is  the  practical  sig- 
nificance of  the  social  sciences :  they  must  point  the 
way  by  which  society  may  achieve  this  larger  social 
organization.  The  possibility  of  this  is  but  dimly 
emerging  into  our  social  imaginations.  Its  actual 
realization  is  still  far  in  the  future,  perhaps.  Eventu- 
ally it  will  express  itself  in  a  wide  range  of  social 
ideals,  and  in  fairly  specific  but  growing  standards  of 
social  achievement,  as  we  shall  see  later.  Here  we  are 
considering  the  significance  of  the  social  sciences  in  the 
task  of  organizing  the  community. 

All  science  rests  ultimately,  whether  consciously  or 


64  Community  Organisation  \ 

not,  on  some  fundamental  philosophic  foundation. 
Ignoring  all  incidental  variations,  three  main  philo- 
sophic points  of  view  exist,  upon  one  of  which,  or  upon 
some  unintelligent  mingling  of  which,  every  social  or 
physical  science  rests  itself.  Two  of  these  points  of 
view  assume  the  existence  of  a  complete  and  struc- 
turally unchangeable  world;  the  third  assumes  the  real- 
ity of  evolution,  not  only  in  its  physical  sense,  but  in 
that  more  real  sense  which  assumes  that  in  all  social, 
intellectual,  and  moral  lines  the  universe  is  still  capable 
of  producing  new  patterns.  The  first  two  of  these  sys- 
tems are  those  commonly  called  idealism  and  realism; 
the  third  is  commonly  called  pragmatism. 

Idealism  assumes  a  universal  structure  of  ideas,  or 
truth,  which,  like  some  mighty  blueprint  of  the  uni- 
verse, forms  the  original  sufficient  and  unchanging  pat- 
tern within  which  creation  moves.  Here  is  that  great 
structure  of  scientific  law  and  moral  principle  within 
which  the  stars  and  planets,  plants  and  animals,  and 
man  and  his  institutions  all  alike  develop.  It  includes 
also  that  "divine  far-off  event  toward  which  the  whole 
creation  moves."  This  may  be  a  very  noble  conception; 
but,  however  noble,  it  is  absolute  and  limited  and  sets 
definite  barriers  to  the  development  of  humanity  and  to 
the  growth  of  man's  aspirations.  As  such  it  has  ceased 
to  satisfy  human  need. 

Realism,  on  the  other  hand,  asserts  the  actual  exist- 
ence of  the  physical  structure  of  the  universe.  It  as- 
sumes the  identity  of  atoms  or  other  units  of  matter, 


The  Function  of  the  Social  Sciences         65 

and  asserts  the  indestructibility  of  these  physical  exist- 
ences. This  is  then  that  great  structure  of  the  physical 
universe  within  which  stars  and  planets,  plants  and 
animals,  man  and  his  institutions  develop.  An  essen- 
tial item  in  this  system  reduces  morality  to  psychology, 
and  psychology  to  behavior,  and  behavior  to  physi- 
ology, and  physiology  becomes  part  of  the  physical 
structure  of  the  world.  Man  loses  his  significance  as  a 
moral  being  in  this  system.  All  his  aspirations  and  in- 
stitutions become  assimilated  to  physical  processes.  As 
one  writer  has  facetiously  described  its  effect  on  psy- 
chology, "Under  the  realistic  influence  psychology 
lost  its  soul  some  thirty  years  ago,  and  recently  it  has 
almost  succeeded  in  losing  its  mind."  This  realistic 
conception  of  the  universe  has  certain  great  values  in 
redeeming  man  from  his  over-emotional  emphasis  upon 
the  nature  of  life.  But,  however  dignified,  it  is  again 
an  absolute  system;  hence,  limited  in  its  outlook  and 
insufficient  to  meet  the  aspirations  of  human  life. 

The  third  theory,  pragmatism,  assumes  the  reality 
of  human  experience,  and  asserts  the  reality  of  the  evo- 
lutionary emergence  of  new  levels  of  experience  and 
new  patterns  of  being.  It  finds  in  old  habit,  custom, 
tradition  and  institution  those  solid  structures  of  which 
realism  makes  so  much,  and  which  are  capable  of  form- 
ing a  permanent  basis  of  habit,  a  permanent  universe. 
It  finds  in  innovation,  impulse,  and  invention  the  hint 
of  unrealized  ideas  which  seem  so  much  worth  while 
that  they  carry  the  suggestion  of  pre-existence.  It  finds 


66  Community  Organisation 

in  the  conflict  between  old  habit  and  innovating  sug- 
gestion the  possibility  of  the  emergence  of  new  levels 
of  experience  which  will  deny  the  finality  of  both  old 
habit  and  uncriticized  idea.  In  this  process  of  recon- 
struction, emerges  the  new  pattern  which  shall  take  the 
place  of  the  old  modes  of  living.  According  to  this 
statement  of  the  nature  of  the  world,  the  universe  is 
inhnitely  creative,  making  inexhaustible  room  for  the 
satisfaction  of  human  aspiration,  the  realization  of  new 
forms  of  human  association,  and  the  building  of  end- 
lessly new  and  necessary  social  orders.  The  essential 
theory  of  this  book  is  pragmatic. 

This  view  of  the  matter  implies  that  the  democratic 
community  toward  which  we  look  is  not  now  in  exist- 
ence. It  does  not  now  exist  anywhere  save  perhaps 
in  the  longings  and  aspirations  and  purposes  of  the 
few  who  love  democracy  more  than  their  own  ease. 

This  is,  of  course,  a  fact  of  life.  For  example,  in 
1786  there  was  nowhere  any  such  entity  as  the  United 
States  of  America.  In  the  course  of  the  summer  1787 
the  plan  of  such  an  entity  gradually  formed  itself  in 
the  thinking  of  a  group  of  statesmen.  Before  the  end 
of  1787  that  plan  was  formally  completed;  but  it  re- 
quired another  year  to  make  it  actual  in  the  world  of 
institutions  and  a  century  to  give  it  substantial  stand- 
ing among  the  nations  of  the  world.  This  is  the  his- 
toric fact;  new  institutions  do  emerge  out  of  the  aspira- 
tions, hopes,  longings,  and  intentions  of  men.  What 
was  not  in  existence  comes  into  existence ;  and  becomes 


The  Function  of  the  Social  Sciences  67 

potent  among  the  energies  and  forces  of  the  world. 

This  is  the  fact,  but  we  do  not  care  to  face  that  fact 
or  admit  it,  for  it  seems  to  put  us  into  a  theoretically 
defenseless  position.  Nothing,  however,  is  to  be  gained 
for  democracy  by  ignoring  the  origin  of  democracy's 
new  institutions.  As  a  matter  of  simple  fact,  institu- 
fions  do  develop  out  of  the  germs  of  feeling,  aspira- 
tion, intention,  idea;  hence,  theoretically  pragmatism 
represents  a  true  view  of  the  nature  of  our  social 
order,  with  its  old  institutions  which  are  only  partially 
satisfactory;  with  endless  new  needs  continuously  ap- 
pearing; with  its  continuous  inventiveness  shaping  new 
institutions  to  meet  these  new  needs.  Men's  faith  must 
escape  from  the  mere  past  and  take  hold  upon  the 
unformed  future.  That  which  is  unsatisfactory  in  pres- 
ent social  organization  must  be  scientifically  analyzed 
ior  the  purpose  of  determining  how  much  of  it  can  be 
discarded  and  of  laying  the  foundations  of  new  sys- 
tems, molding  new  orders  nearer  to  our  needs  and  to 
our  heart's  desires. 

This  involves  the  use  in  all  social  developments  of 
that  wonderful  tool  which  has  been  so  fruitful  in  all 
the  realm  of  physical  inventiveness — the  hypothesis. 
In  order  that  we  may  see  more  clearly  just  what  this 
tool  is  we  may  note  the  alternatives  of  conduct  open  to 
a  community  in  any  time  of  stress.  Even  the  most  be- 
sotted community  may  without  any  intention  of  its 
own  come  upon  the  evil  day  of  uneasiness :  what  shall 
it  do  then?   In  general  four  possible  lines  of  conduct 


68  Community  Organization 

are  open.  First,  it  may  fall  back  upon  some  ancient 
theory  of  community  organization.  Second,  it  may 
merely  rest  upon  conditions  and  drift  with  circum- 
stances. Third,  it  may  set  up  some  absolute  picture  of 
a  future  in  which  all  social  questions  are  completely 
solved.  Fourth,  it  may  take  a  somewhat  opportunist 
view  of  the  future  and  set  up  hypotheses  of  possible 
organizations  to  be  tested  out  in  the  current  of  events 
and  to  be  accepted  if  found  useful.  The  first  of  these 
is  illustrated  by  the  doctrines  of  President  Wilson  in 
his  theory  of  "The  New  Freedom,"  in  which  he  would 
go  back  to  the  simpler  social  conditions  of  the  days  of 
Jefferson  and  re-establish  American  community  life  in 
terms  of  a  social  order  that  has  passed  away.  The 
second  is  of  the  nature  of  kdsser  faire  and  represents 
the  philosophy  that  "whatever  is,  is  right."  The  third 
is  represented  by  an  extreme  Marxian  socialism,  which 
would  set  up  an  inevitable  goal  toward  which  civiliza- 
tion moves  past  all  escape. 

The  fourth  represents  the  scientific  point  of  view, 
and  the  jragmatic  mood;  it  assumes  that  man's  intel- 
ligence must  play  around  about  and  upon  all  his  prob- 
lems day  by  day  and  year  by  year  as  long  as  the  world 
stands.  But  it  assumes  also  that  into  the  maze  of  the 
future  men  must  ever  project  hypothetic  solutions  and 
programs  which  may  or  may  not  come  true.  It  is  not 
so  important  that  men's  guesses  should  always  come 
true;  it  is  of  the  very  essence  of  human  intelligence 
that  men  should  evermore  have  a  chance  to  guess. 


The  Function  of  the  Social  Sciences          69 

That  is  what  the  makers  of  our  American  Constitu- 
tion did,  and  because  they  guessed  usably  they  stand 
high  in  our  esteem.  But  that  is  also  what  the  makers 
of  the  Articles  of  Confederation  did;  and  because  their 
guess  was  not  so  conclusive  their  names  are  not  widely 
known.  Human  beings  do  not  largely  care  for  cer- 
tainty. Oliver  Cromwell  said:  "He  who  knows  not 
whither  he  is  going  goes  farthest."  Democracy  may 
never  dare  lose  the  feeling  that  it  is  a  great  experi- 
ment, knowing  not  whither  it  is  going,  but  none  the 
less  bravely  going  on,  trusting  the  intelligence  of  to- 
morrow to  meet  the  problems  of  to-morrow  as  the 
intelligence  of  the  past  met  the  problems  of  the  past. 

The  use  of  the  hypothesis  releases  us  from  control 
by  the  past,  with  all  its  narrowing  limitations,  into  the 
freedom  of  the  future  with  all  its  promise  for  the 
realization  of  human  good.  Of  course  such  a  mode 
of  procedure  demands  the  use  of  every  critical  faculty 
for  the  safeguarding  of  the  community  against  un- 
founded and  impossible  vagaries;  but  no  fearfulness 
on  the  part  of  vested  interests  may  rightly  be  permit- 
ted to  destroy  the  community's  faith  in  its  own  unde- 
termined future.  Every  community  needs  to  be  con- 
tinually working  at  the  more  complete  statement  of 
its  own  more  adequate  hypothesis.  This  hypothesis  of 
the  ideal  community  should  be  free  to  break  radically 
with  all  old  modes  of  living,  just  as,  let  us  say,  steam 
transportation  broke  with  old  modes  of  transportation, 
or  as  instantaneous  systems  of  communication  broke 


70  Community  Organisation 

with  ancient,  slower  means.  Such  an  hypothesis  will, 
of  course,  be  related  to  old  conditions,  facts,  and  atti- 
tudes; but  it  will  distinctly  recognize  the  indisputable 
fact  that  no  stable  social  order  can  rest  upon  condi- 
tions, facts  or  attitudes  that  are  severely  questioned. 
Calling  a  disintegrating  cement  good,  will  not  make  it 
good;  calling  a  disintegrating  social  order  good,  will 
not  make  it  good. 

Any  hypothesis  of  the  future  ideal  community  there- 
fore will  necessarily  relate  itself  to  the  unquestioned 
elements  in  the  present  social  order.  Leaving  these 
secure  bases  it  will  work  its  way  through  the  mazes 
of  social  question  with  the  help  of  every  item  of  social 
intelligence  securable.  This  intelligence  will  be  pro- 
vided by  such  developments  as  psychology,  economics, 
political  science,  sociology,  ethics,  and  the  like. 
Through  the  working  out  of  these  elements  the  form 
of  the  more  ideal  community  of  the  future  will  gradu- 
ally emerge  in  the  social  imagination  of  interested  men 
and  women.  It  will  be  like  a  finer  breed  of  plant, 
sought  for  and  selected  for  its  beauty,  its  strength,  its 
general  excellence.  It  is  essential  that  they  who  have 
in  charge  the  growth  of  this  finer  social  organism  shall 
have  substantially  sound  understanding  of  the  soils  in 
which  it  will  grow,  and  of  the  nurturing  materials  that 
it  needs  in  its  growth.  They  who  have  to  do  with  the 
redirection  of  the  social  order — educators,  statesmen, 
thinkers,  scientists  and  the  like — must  draw  their  war- 
rant to  be  so  engaged  in  a  democracy  not  from  the  fact 


The  Function  of  the  Social  Sciences  71 

that  they  have  attended  many  funerals  in  the  past,  but 
from  the  fact  that  they  have  looked  with  joy  on  the 
dawn  of  many  new  days.  They  must  be  able  to  see 
human  nature  not  from  the  standpoint  of  a  complacent 
pessimism  and  cjmical  unbelief,  but  from  the  standpoint 
of  an  insight  into  the  still  unexplored  areas  of  human 
hope. 

They  will  see  in  psychology  not  a  cynical  proof  of 
the  impossibility  of  human  aspiration,  but  a  dramatic 
presentation  of  the  lines  within  which  human  aspira- 
tion may  legitimately  arise  and  may  confidently  hope 
to  achieve  itself.  They  will  see  in  political  science  not 
the  brutal  and  sordid  proof  that  human  beings  are 
happiest  when  they  are  being  manipulated  to  the  profit 
of  a  few;  but  that  human  nature  is  happiest  when  it 
finds  itself  serving,  expressing,  growing,  without 
thought  of  the  outcome.  They  will  find  in  economics 
not  the  old,  dismal  proof  that  man  is  primarily  a  diges- 
tion-machine to  be  kept  in  order  by  being  always  kept 
full,  but  rather  a  social  being  who,  having  satisfied 
himself  with  some  of  the  good  things  of  the  earth,  is 
ready  to  share  in  all  adventures  for  the  still  higher 
goods  of  Hfe. 

The  possibility  of  the  service  of  social  theory  in  the 
development  of  community  might  be  demonstrated  in 
any  one  of  the  social  sciences.  But  a  single  illustration 
will  be  sulificient. 

Social  "science"  might  be  any  one  of  three  things: 
it  might  be  a  justification,  more  or  less  carefully  and 


72  Community  Organization 

plausibly  worked  out,  of  established  social  structure 
and  methods;  it  might  be  a  descriptive  analysis  of  that 
structure  and  method  without  any  particular  attempt 
at  evaluation;  it  might  be  a  constructive  analysis 
weighing  the  various  elements  and  organizing  them 
according  to  some  theory  of  progress. 

Political  economy  has  been  all  three  of  these,  in 
the  early  mercantilist  days  the  "economist"  worked  out 
his  theories  of  "the  balance  of  trade"  on  the  basis  of 
and  as  justification  for  commerce  and  commercial 
treaties  already  in  existence.  Breaking  sharply  with 
this  position  as  a  tool  of  government  policies,  Adam 
Smith  made  a  thorough-going  study  of  economic  proc- 
esses, sharply  separated  from  any  motive  to  interfere 
.with  those  processes.  He  said,  in  effect,  to  the  govern- 
ment: "Your  petty  laws  of  favoritism  and  restriction 
are  useless  and  worse  than  useless.  The  economic 
structure  is  governed  by  great  'natural'  laws  with 
which  you  are  unwisely  tampering." 

Yet  the  third  step,  to  the  constructive,  intelligent 
handling  of  these  "laws,"  was  slow  in  coming.  The 
gulf  so  necessarily  set  up  between  science  and  action 
came  by  a  curious  turn  to  be  the  tool  of  conservatism. 
In  turn  the  conservative  tells  the  reformer  as  he  seeks 
for  forward-looking  organization  and  legislation:, 
"You  are  merely  tampering  unwisely  with  inexorable 
natural  law."  Such  statements  were  probably  not 
always  believed  by  their  spokesmen,  but  they  exerted 
a  strong  restraining  pressure  on  the  development  of  a 


The  Function  of  the  Social  Sciences  73 

constructive,  evaluating  social  science,  which  should 
describe  fearlessly,  and  proceed  also  fearlessly  to  show 
on  the  basis  of  that  description  the  points  at  which 
readjustment  must  be  made. 

The  main  difficulty  probably  arises  from  the  inter- 
pretation oif  the  word  law.  The  older  sciences,  physical 
and  social  alike,  used  the  term  with  the  connotation  that 
law  was  divine  enactment  against  which  it  were  blas- 
phemy even  to  protest.  "Facts"  have  also  at  times  been 
used  in  this  same  absolute  sense;  upholders  of  the 
status  quo  have  continually  warned  liberalists  to  be- 
ware how  they  trifled  with  facts.  Now  a  fact  may  be 
never  so  real  a  thing  and  still  be  subject  to  a  variety 
of  treatments.  A  solid  precipice  on  the  mountainside 
may  be  an  undesirable  thing  into  which  to  bump  one's 
head;  none  the  less,  a  rope  securely  fastened  to  the  top, 
of  the  precipice  may  make  it  possible  to  escape  from  a 
low  order  of  existence  to  one  much  higher  and  finer. 
So  a  fact  may  be  dangerous  if  just  bumped  into;  but 
used  as  a  solid  reality  to  pull  one's  self  up  by  or  to 
build  upon,  it  may  serve  not  to  limit  life  but  to  give  it 
new  scope  and  outlook. 

For  example,  there  is  a  law  of  supply  and  demand, 
just  as  there  is  a  law  of  gravitation.  But  the  fact  that 
there  is  a  law  of  gravitation  does  not  mean  that  every 
human  being  will  eventually  fall  and  break  his  leg.  In 
like  fashion,  the  fact  that  there  is  a  law  of  supply  and 
demand  does  not  mean  that  if  there  are  "naturally" 
four  jobs  and  five  men  wanting  them  one  must  inevit- 


74  Community  Organisation 

ably  starve  to  death.  The  old  adage  "Necessity  is  the 
mother  of  invention"  can  quite  as  readily  be  inverted 
and  made  to  read  "Invention  is  the  mother  of  neces- 
sity." That  is  to  say,  supply  may  be  more  than  the 
answer  to  demand.  Since  human  nature  is  still  only 
partially  explored,  supply  may  even  be  the  cause  of  the 
appearance  of  new  demands. 

Hence,  in  the  closing  years  of  the  nineteenth  century 
and  in  these  two  decades  of  the  twentieth  century,  all 
the  social  sciences  have  definitely  been  turned  in  the 
forward-looking,  positive  direction.  Instead  of  relying 
upon  old  interpretations  of  history  and  psychology 
upon  which  a  dismal  structure  of  defeat  must  inevit- 
ably arise,  human  nature  has  been  subjected  to  a  con- 
tinuous re-investigation  and  re-interpretation  for  the 
purpose  of  finding  out  facts  and  principles  which  can 
be  used  in  the  support  of  a  positive  program  of  prog- 
ress. Psychology  has  become  a  search  for  the  mate- 
rials of  understanding  and  control  of  the  human  organ- 
ism, with  a  view  to  providing  the  various  social 
sciences  with  substantial  foundations  in  real  human 
nature.  The  old  doctrine  that  fear  is  at  the  basis  of 
human  conduct  and  that  starvation  is  the  one  motive 
from  which  all  individuals  take  their  cue  has  disap- 
I>eared  and  we  know  now  that  men  will  gladly  go  to 
their  deaths  for  adventure,  for  noble  ideals,  for  great 
social  purpose,  for  any  number  of  types  of  spiritual 
achievement.  Any  social  system  or  economic  system 
that  ignores  the  heroic  quality  in  human  conduct  is 
doomed  to  failure.    Eventually  our  political  sagacity 


The  Function  of  the  Social  Sciences  75 

will  grow  big  enough  to  enable  us  to  use  for  civic 
purposes  the  whole  great  mass  of  heroisms  which  work- 
ing men  of  the  world  exhibit  in  their  mass  actions  and 
which  are  now  all  too  frequently  turned  bitterly  aside 
from  inclusion  in  our  civic  resources. 

On  the  side  of  ethics  the  old  doctrines  that  men  are 
either  good  or  bad,  and  that  every  moral  choice  in- 
volves a  clear-cut  distinction  are  both  giving  way  in 
these  more  analytic  days  to  the  understanding  that 
every  one  of  us  is  a  pretty  complicated  mixture  of  mo- 
tives and  that  every  moral  situation  involves  elements 
that  no  human  wisdom  can  fully  allocate  to-  either  the 
good  or  the  bad  side.  So  that  ethics  to-day  is  largely 
trying  to  escape  from  the  old,  futile,  metaphysical  job 
of  classifying  individuals  and  situations  and  so  finish- 
ing up  the  ethical  problem  once  for  all.  Instead  of  this,' 
the  wisest  of  ethical  leaders  are  to-day  concerned  with 
the  greater  task,  the  alluring  task,  of  learning  how  to 
bring  together  in  ever  larger  numbers  and  with  ever 
greater  degree  of  intelligence  and  energy  those  good 
men  and  women  who  will  devote  themselves  to  the  age- 
long task  of  making  a  good  world. 

Rooted  in  the  social  instincts  of  the  individual  and 
the  primitive  group,  the  hopes  of  ultimate  community 
are  secure.  The  development  of  the  full  growth  of 
community  waits  upon  the  development  of  the  more 
complete  social  sciences  of  the  future  and  their  ade- 
quate application  to  the  tasks  of  making  a  completely 
human  world. 


CHAPTER  V 


THE  DEMOCRATIC  IDEAL 


American  idealism  rose  to  high  levels  in  war-time 
and  expressed  itself  in  eloquent  measures  in  the  state 
papers  of  President  Wilson.  No  more  remarkable  phe- 
nomenon has  been  known  in  recent  centuries  than  the 
profound  effect  of  his  idealism  on  the  oppressed  peoples 
of  the  earth.  He  made  their  problems  America's  prob- 
lems, and  he  gave  to  them  the  inspiration  of  sharing 
America's  ancient  idealism.  Reactionary  tendencies 
since  the  war  have  seemed  to  repudiate  those  aspira- 
tions, but  democracy  will  never  find  its  complete  ful- 
fillment until  it  returns  to  them  and  makes  them  a  part 
of  its  fundamental  program. 

What  were  some  of  those  aspirations  ? 

"We  wish  nothing  for  ourselves  that  we  are  not 
ready  to  demand  for  all  mankind, — fair  dealing,  jus- 
tice, the  freedom  to  live  and  be  secure  against  organ- 
ized wrong." 

"We  fight  for  the  things  which  we  have  always  car- 
ried nearest  our  heart, — for  democracy,  for  the  right 
of  those  who  submit  to  authority  to  have  a  voice  in 
their  own  government,  for  the  rights  and  liberties  of 
small  nations,  for  a  universal  dominion  of  right  by 

76 


The  Democratic  Ideal  77 

such  a  concert  of  free  peoples  as  shall  bring  peace  and 
safety  to  all  nations  and  make  the  world  itself  at  last 
free." 

"A  full  recognition  of  the  right  of  those  who  work 
to  participate  in  some  organic  way  in  every  decision 
which  affects  their  welfare  or  the  part  they  are  to 
play  in  industry." 

"There  are  many  things  still  to  do  at  home,  to  clarify 
our  own  politics  and  give  new  vitality  to  the  industrial 
processes  otf  our  own  life,  and  we  shall  do  them  as 
time  and  opportunity  serve;  but  we  realize  that  the 
greatest  things  that  remain  to  be  done  must  be  done 
with  the  whole  world  for  stage,  and  in  co-operation 
with  the  wide  and  universal  forces  of  mankind;  and 
we  are  making  our  spirits  ready  for  those  things.  They 
will  follow  in  the  immediate  wake  of  the  war  and  will 
set  civilization  up  again.  .  .  .  There  can  be  no  turn- 
ing back."* 

Apologists  for  old  conditions  and  ancient  wrongs 
insist  that  "such  words  as  these  did  the  world  infinite 
injury,  because  they  awakened  hopes  that  can  never 
be  realized."  But  this  is  part  of  that  folly,  partly  inten- 
tional, partly  pathetic,  and  wholly  tragic,  by  which  the 
energies  of  the  world  are  blocked  in  their  efforts  to 
achieve  a  truly  humane  social  order.  Upholders  of 
these  old-time  institutions  and  social  organizations  base 
their  opposition  to  change  on  the  traditional  theory  that 
human  nature  is  unchangeable:    "As  long  as  human 

*See  "Selected  Addresses  and  Public  Papers  of  Woodrow 
Wilson,"  passim. 


78  Community  Organisation 

nature  remains  what  it  is,"  they  say,  "the  world  will 
go  on  as  it  always  has  gone  on."  This  doctrine  has 
sufficient  support  in  the  fatalisms  of  religion  and  ethics 
and  common  experience  to  make  most  people  accept  it 
as  final. 

But  it  has  its  real  and  final,  though  unsuspected,  sup- 
port in  our  deep  wishes  and  desires.  It  helps  to  main- 
tain our  ancient  privileges,  our  vested  ignorances;  and 
it  tends  to  gloss  over  our  social  indolence.  Once  we 
blamed  a  personal  devil  for  the  wrong  that  is  in  the 
world.  To  this  we  added  the  doctrine  of  total  deprav- 
ity,— "In  Adam's  fall  we  sinned  all," — to  give  the  doc- 
trine of  evil  a  more  permanent  hold  on  human  nature. 
Evolutionary  studies  tend  to  discredit  personal  devils 
and  total  depravities,  but  leave  larger  room  for  this 
new  excuse — "human  nature." 

This  is,  however,  a  quite  definite  misinterpretation 
of  human  nature.  In  the  first  place,  there  is  no  one 
human  nature;  there  are  as  many  different  human 
natures  as  there  are  individuals.  Human  nature  ranges 
all  the  way  from  the  well-known  scribes  who  devoured 
widows'  houses,  and  made  long  prayers  in  the  syna- 
gogue, to  the  widow  who  gave  her  all  to  the  poor;  it 
ranges  all  the  way  from  the  character  of  Judas  to  the 
character  of  Jesus.  This  is  a  simple  historic  fact  which 
he  who  runs  may  read. 

In  the  second  place,  modern  psychology  no  longer 
accepts  any  simple  statement  of  human  nature.  In  view 
of  modem  investigations  each  human  being  is  an  ama?* 


The  Democratic  Ideal  79 

ing  complication  of  interminable  characteristics.* 
Human  personality  is  not  an  entity  that  just  is:  it  is 
a  growing  achievement,  and  may  become  integrated  to 
some  high  and  worthy  purpose  or  dissipated  to  ignoble 
and  destructive  ends.  In  spite  of  the  fact  that  psychol- 
ogy shows  this  tremendous  complication  of  human  per- 
sonality, it  is  opening  surer  ways  to  the  control  of 
conduct  and  the  development  of  a  real  art  of  living. 
And  though  evil  possibilities  mix  in  every  nature,  the 
way  to  a  generously  human  community  life  becomes 
continuously  more  clear.  Education,  if  it  could  be  per- 
mitted to  use  intelligently  the  growing  knowledge  that 
we  have  of  the  possibilities  of  human  nature,  could 
assure  us  a  vigorously  democratic  civilization  led  by  a 
broad  social  intelligence  just  as  surely  as  the  prussian- 
izing  pedagogy  of  two  generations  assured  Germany 
a  submissive  citizenship  that  both  physically  and  men- 
tally was  dominated  by  authority. 

All  organization  of  growing  social  life  involves 
something  of  manipulation.  There  never  has  been  a 
group  that  grew  up  "naturally."  No  set  O'f  habits  or 
customs  has  ever  represented  ultimate  human  nature. 
Every  civilization,  including  every  modern  one,  has 
had  its  folkways,  its  arbitrary  leaderships,  its  practical 
psychologists,  who  manipulated  it  to  their  own  interest. 
People  have  always  been  the  victims  of  catch  phrases 
and  "question-begging  epithets."  Bacon  pointed  out 
three  hundred  years  ago  how  human  thinking  is  habitu- 

*  Trotter:  Instincts  of  the  Herd  in  Peace  and  War. 
Wallas:  The  Great  Society,  Ch.  2  and  Chs.  5  and  6. 


80  Community  Organization 

ally  determined  *by  what  he  called  "the  Idols  of  the 
Mind."  In  modern  times  we  have  seen  the  develop- 
ment of  such  a  movement  as  the  "psychology  of  sales- 
manship," in  which  salesmen  are  given  just  enough 
insight  into  practical  psychology  to  be  able  to  play 
upon  some  gross  motive,  vanity,  cupidity  or  fear,  and 
so  to  manipulate  customers.  In  all  ages  religion  has 
been  called  upon  to  sanction  misrepresentation  of 
human  nature,  and  public  opinion  has  supported  gross 
inhumanities,  such  as  slavery,  in  the  name  of  religion 
and  civilization.  Words  have  exercised  fatal  influence 
over  the  lives  oi  men:  loyalty,  solidarity,  patriotism, 
treason,  cowardice,  slacking, — the  books  are  full  of  the 
long  lists  of  epithets  by  which  society  has  been  con- 
trolled. 

In  all  these  historic  illustrations  and  in  the  present 
social  situation  we  face  nowhere  ultimate  human 
nature.  We  face  only  existent  conditions,  growing  out 
of  a  more  or  less  plausible  history,  and  depending  upon 
indolence  and  habit  to  maintain  them.  Pope  sanctified 
them  in  their  impudent  claims  to  finality  in  his  cele- 
brated falsehood,  "Whatever  is,  is  right."  History 
proves  nothing  excepting  that  certain  things  are,  and 
that  while  they  may  have  served  fairly  well  in  their 
own  time,  they  are  themselves  not  final,  but  usurpers 
of  the  positions  of  other  institutional  forms  which  pre- 
viously existed.  And  just  as  those  previous  existences 
passed  away  to  make  room  for  these,  so  these  can  be 
rightfully  called  in  question  to  determine  their  fitness 


The  Democratic  Ideal  81 

to  survive.  For  a  democratic  social  order  must  soon 
or  late  definitely  experience  what  Ferguson  calls  the 
"revolution  absolute," — that  is,  it  must  give  over  deter- 
mining its  program  from  the  past  and  undertake  to 
determine  it  by  establishing  desirable  standards  of 
achievement  for  the  future,  in  accordance  with  the  most 
real  and  generous  aspirations  of  the  present. 

Such  standards  must  be  established  through  all  the 
ranges  of  our  community  life:  health,  housing,  indus- 
try, family  life,  child  welfare,  citizenship,  justice,  edu- 
cation and  public  opinion,  recreation,  and  morality. 

With  regard  to  health,  a  community  program  will 
include  all  the  preventive  factors :  municipal  sanitation, 
railway  sanitation,  measures  to  prevent  the  spread  of 
the  venereal  diseases,  of  tuberculosis,  of  malaria,  and 
of  the  lesser  contagious  diseases.  It  will  see  that  the 
water  we  drink,  the  milk  we  give  our  children,  the 
foods  we  eat,  all  contribute  to  health  and  not  disease. 
It  will  guard  not  only  against  industrial  accidents,  but 
against  any  industrial  condition  which  threatens  the 
maximum  health  and  social  effectiveness  of  the  worker. 
It  will  see  that  our  rural  communities  do  not  remain  in 
ignorance  of  the  great  advances  in  hygiene  which  have 
been  made  by  modern  medicine  and  sanitation.  It  will 
see  that  accurate  vital  statistics  are  kept  and  that  the 
intelligence  of  the  community  and  of  each  individual 
member  of  the  community  is  increasingly  alert,  well- 
informed,  and  able  to  build  strong,  vigorous  life.* 

♦See  Annual  Report  Public  Health  Service  1919. 


82  Community  Organisation 

A  community  housing  problem  will  involve  more 
than  a  minimum  of  light,  air  and  sanitation.  It  will 
be  concerned  also  with  the  zoning  of  the  city,  the 
transportation,  lighting,  and  beautification  of  the  city, 
with  the  elimination  of  speculative  land  values,  with 
the  acquiring  of  the  benefits  of  ownership  for  wage 
earners  without  interfering  with  the  mobility  of  labor, 
with  the  elimination  of  waste  in  the  construction 
of  houses,  with  the  stimulation  of  the  sense  of  beauty 
and  architectural  value  throughout  all  our  building.* 

Community  standards  in  industry  will  make  it  evi- 
dent that  some  form  of  national  minimum  which  shall 
insure  "to  every  member  of  the  community  in  good 
times  and  bad  alike  all  the  requisites  of  healthy  life 
and  worthy  citizenship"  is  absolutely  essential.  It  will 
seem  also  evident  with  such  viewpoint  that  there  must 
be  "a  genuinely  scientific  reorganization  of  a  nation's 
industry,  no  longer  deflected  by  individual  profiteer- 
ing, .  .  .  and  the  adoption  in  particular  services  and 
occupations  of  those  systems  and  methods  of  admin- 
istration and  control  that  may  be  found  in  practice 
the  best  to  promote,  not  profiteering  but  the  public 
interest."! 

One  difficulty  meets  us  at  this  point :  if  the  capital- 
istic wage  system  of  organizing  industry  remains,  the 
statement  of  standards  will  take  a  particular  direc- 

*  See  The  Housing  Problem  in  War  and  Peace  (1918), 
published  by  the  Journal  of  the  American  Institute  of 
Architects,   Washington. 

t  British  Labor  Party  Program. 


The  Democratic  Ideal  83 

tion;  if,  as  seems  likely,  some  more  adequately  human 
organization  of  industry  prevails,  such  standards  will 
take  some  other  direction.  But  in  either  case,  certain 
minimum  essentials  can  be  foreseen.  The  working 
day  must  provide  maximum  productivity  without  de- 
stroying the  worker's  capacity  to  perform  adequately 
his  other  functions  as  a  citizen  and  human  being  (cer- 
tainly not  to  exceed  a  44  hour  week;  and  eventually 
probably  a  six  hour  day).  All  competent  members  of 
the  community  must  participate  both  in  the  actual 
work  of  the  community  and  in  the  wealth  it  pro- 
duces. This,  together  with  adequate  community  care 
for  dependents  and  incompetents,  means  the  abolition 
of  poverty.  Every  form  of  "child  .labor"  must  be 
guarded  against,  without  at  the  same  time  depriving 
children  of  the  chance  to  share  in  work  activities  and 
to  learn  to  work.  Industrial  controls  must  be  so  re- 
organized as  to  liberate  the  constructive  intelligence 
and  inventiveness  of  the  workers,  both  as  to  industrial 
processes  and  as  to  the  control  of  industry.  Industry 
must  also  be  reorganized  for  the  elimination  of  all 
waste,  both  physical  and  social,  to  the  end  that  pro- 
duction shall  be  made  as  economical  as  possible,  the 
economies  so  resulting  to  be  shared  democratically 
by  all  members  of  the  industry.* 

The  standard  of  family  life  in  a  community  pro 

*  Labor  groups  are  sometimes  charged  with  wanting  con- 
trol of  industry  before  they  are  prepared  to  accept  responsi- 
bility for  the  permanence  of  industrial  operations.  But  fair- 
ness compels  the  admission  that  responsibility  can  be  de* 
veloped  only  by  sharing  in  control.  , 


84  Community  Organisation 

gram  will  center,  perhaps,  about  the  children,  their 
rearing,  education,  and  development  along  normal 
human  lines.  This  will  mean  financial  security  of  the 
family,  the  sharing  of  the  joint  income  among  all  the 
members  according  to  wise  appraisal  of  the  needs  of 
each,  and  a  strong  inspiring  common  affection  within 
the  group.  And  it  will  demand  the  prevention  by  edu- 
cation, public  opinion,  and  law  of  unfit  marriages, — 
marriages  tending  to  the  spread  of  disease,  vice,  crime, 
incompetence,  and  insanity.  It  will  also  demand  frank 
and  open  recognition  of  the  desirability  of  ending  mar- 
riage relationships  under  certain  conditions, — not  only 
under  those  now  generally  recognized,  but  also  when 
unescapable  personal  incompatibilities  make  the  above 
standards  of  home  life  unattainable. 

Child  welfare  standards  lie  at  the  heart  of  the  as- 
pirations of  a  growing  developing  community.  They 
are  an  essential  factor  in  all  community  problems ;  and 
must  hold  a  high  place  in  all  community  decisions. 
The  standards  commonly  known  as  "child  welfare," 
dealing  with  the  variety  of  needs,  physical,  intellec- 
tual, moral,  of  the  growing  child,  have  now  been 
worked  out  in  great  detail.  But  too  often  they  are 
known  only  to  a  very  small  proportion  of  the  com- 
munity. They  must  become  a  recognized  community 
interest.* 

Standards  of  citizenship  tended  before  the  war  to 
become    formalized;   and   discussion    of   them   often 

*  Report   of  the   Washington    Child  Welfare   Conference 
(1919). 


The  Democratic  Ideal  85 

develops  into  a  question  of  duties  versus  rights.  It  is 
evident  that  the  community  must  emphasize  both  of 
these  aspects ;  and  no  authority  is  so  well  fitted  for  the 
proper  evaluation  of  these  two  aspects  of  citizenship 
as  is  the  intelligent  community.  We  are  recognizing 
to-day  that  "papers"  do  not  make  an  immigrant  a  cit- 
izen; nor  does  voting  always  make  a  native  American 
a  citizen  in  matters  which  are  essential  to  commun- 
ity ;  citizenship  means  active,  intelligent,  devoted,  mem- 
bership in  the  community,  and  it  can  be  produced  only 
by  the  community.* 

Justice  is  an  old  Anglo-Saxon  ideal;  it  is  an  old 
Roman  ideal;  it  is  as  old  perhaps  as  civilization.  But 
its  reality  depends  upon  the  constant  reinterpretation 
of  that  term  from  age  to  age.  It  has  a  certain  essen- 
tial character :  freedom  of  all  before  the  law  and  equal- 
ity of  all  before  the  law :  "Every  subject  of  the  Com- 
monwealth .  .  .  ought  to  obtain  justice  freely  and 
without  being  obliged  to  purchase  it;  completely  and 
without  any  denial;  promptly  and  without  delay;  con- 
formably to  the  laws."t  But  the  attainment  of  this 
ideal  through  the  multifarious  complexities  of  our 
modern  life  will  not  be  possible  without  the  definite 
attention  of  the  community.^ 

In  the  preparation  of  the  future  citizenship  the  com- 
munity is  vitally  concerned,  and  its  standards  of  edu- 

*  Weeks:  PsycTioIog-y  of  Citizenship   (McClurg,  1917). 
t  Constitution  of  Massachusetts,  Pt.  1,  Art.  IX. 
t  Smith:  Justice  and  the  Poor. 


86  Community  Organisation 

cation  must  be  constructive.  Community  demands  that 
education  be  socialized  and  vocationalized,  making 
room  for  the  initiative  and  resourcefulness  of  all 
children.  A  wide  variety  of  vocations  awaits  the  chil- 
dren; a  wide  variety  of  native  interests  exists  in 
every  child.  They  must  be  helped  to  prepare  according 
to  their  native  bent,  for  intelligent  participation  in 
trade,  industry,  or  the  professions.  Education  must 
be  extended  to  include  definite  instruction  for  all  up 
to  at  least  the  eighteenth  year.  Educational  opportun- 
ity must  be  equalized  as  between  social  classes  and 
groups,  as  between  the  sexes,  as  between  rural  and 
urban  communities,  and  as  between  rich  and  poor  dis- 
tricts and  states.  Health  and  physical  training,  being 
fundamental  to  that  personal  and  social  efficiency 
which  can  make  a  stable  social  order,  must  be  made 
equal  with  every  other  school  subject  in  standing. 

We  must  secure  a  reorganization  of  the  methods 
of  teaching  to  redeem  them  from  their  academic  dry- 
ness and  make  them  more  adequate  both  psychologic- 
ally and  sociologically  to  the  conditions  under  which 
boys  and  girls  must  live.  Defective  and  delinquent 
children  must  have  the  benefit  of  the  most  complete 
scientific  diagnosis,  prescription,  and  care;  normal 
children  must  have  every  opportunity  to  explore  their 
native  interests  in  order  to  find  out  what  they  are  best 
fitted  to  do  and  be;  extraordinary  children  must  not 
be  destroyed  by  the  mechanism  of  the  school.  To  ac- 
complish these  results  the  internal  structure  of  schools 


The  Democratic  Ideal  S7 

must  be  made  over.  Educational  administration  must 
become  democratic.  Teachers  and  pupils  must  have 
some  share  in  the  control  of  education.  The  new 
teacher  must  be  more  mature  without  bemg  academic, 
better  educated  without  being  pedantic,  more  broadly 
interested  without  being  superficial,  and  more  profes- 
sionally minded  without  being  narrow.  Such  teach- 
ers must  take  definite  responsibility  for  the  problems 
of  the  school.  If  democracy  really  intends  to  take  its 
problems  seriously,  the  program  of  education  must 
rise  to  the  level  of  securing  chis  sort  of  teacher. 

Education  must  no  longer  be  limited  to  cnildhood 
and  adolescence.  A  democracy  lives  in  the  growing 
intelligence  of  its  adult  citizenship.  Citizenship,  in  the 
broadest  sense  of  the  term,  must  be  made  a  part  of  the 
educational  program.  This  will  include  the  teaching 
of  English  to  foreigners,  the  significance  of  Ameri- 
can institutions  to  all  groups,  and  the  interpretation  of 
trends  of  economic  and  political  thinking  to  all  mem- 
bers of  the  community.  In  a  democratic  community 
education  must  continue  as  long  as  life  lasts.* 

One  of  the  most  serious  failures  of  many  of  our 
present  communities  is  the  failure  to  conserve  the  play 
and  recreational  life.  Human  beings  live  largely  in 
their  sense  of  emotional  well-being;  and  this  is  mostly 
kept  normal  by  a  natural  participation  in  social  and 
recreational  activities.    One  of  the  most  fundamental 

*Cf,    Publications    of   the    National    Educational   Associa- 
tion on  "T'he  Present  Emergency  in  Education." 


88  Community  Organisation 

necessities  is  the  working  out  of  a  broad  system  of 
standards  of  community  use  of  off-time:  recognition 
of  the  need  for  playground  facilities  for  the  children; 
of  the  necessity  for  social  gatherings,  amusement,  play, 
and  all  expressions  of  healthy  social  instinct  for  the 
young  people  and  for  the  older  people  of  the  com- 
munity; an  established  place  in  the  community  for  a 
complete  all-the-y ear-round  program  of  social  life  and 
recreation  for  all  the  people  of  the  community,  not 
monotonous  and  fixed  once  for  all,  but  year  by  year 
being  vitalized  by  the  recreational  inventiveness  of  the 
community;  recognition  of  the  importance  of  special 
occasions,  civic  celebrations,  and  the  like, — not  for  ex- 
ploitation, but  for  spontaneous  pleasure, — for  taking 
the  "eternal  grind"  out  of  life;  the  selection  of  a  super- 
intendent of  recreation,  adequately  trained  and  with 
broad  outlook  upon  the  whole  social  situation ;  and  the 
organization  of  some  sort  of  broad  recreational  board 
to  promote  community  occasions  in  which  the  whole 
community  gathers  and  enhances  its  own  collective 
emotion  and  sense  of  the  worth  of  the  community. 

The  organization  of  the  community  toward  which 
we  look  must  make  provision  for  the  protection  of  the 
leisure  of  the  people  against  all  sordid  encroachments 
whether  of  business  or  of  narrow  tradition.  The  de- 
mand for  beauty  must  likewise  be  protected  against 
all  exploitation  because  the  future  of  the  race  is  bound 
up  with  the  conservation  of  the  beauty  of  life.  With 
the  increase  of  leisure  in  the  common  life  will  come 


The  Democratic  Ideal  89 

a  tremendous  community  responsibility  for  providing 
adequate  means  in  every  sane  and  helpful  direction  for 
the  play,  recreation,  and  amusement  of  the  people.* 

Community  standards  of  morality  will  demand  of 
the  members  of  the  community,  in  addition  to  the  older 
sense  of  individual  responsibility,  a  genuine  apprecia- 
tion of  the  conditions  under  which  they  live  and  a 
willingness  to  assume  some  share  of  the  responsibility 
for  the  perpetuation  or  the  cure  of  those  conditions.! 

In  common  usage  the  term  "standard  of  living"  has 
primarily  reference  to  economic  factors,  though  in  its 
broader  application  it  is  to  be  noted  that  economic  re- 
sources are  used  to  pay  for  all  those  other  more  or 
less  intangible  goods  which  make  human  life  worthy 
and  dignified.  The  standards  set  forth  in  this  chapter 
represent  the  elements  that  go  to  the  making  of  such  a 
broad  standard  of  living.  Human  life  grows  too 
valuable  to  be  wasted  in  war,  or  in  the  accidents  and 
diseases  of  industry  or  by  preventable  diseases  of 
infancy,  or  through  bad  housing  or  ignorant  disregard 
of  sanitation  and  hygiene.  The  standard  of  living  by 
which  human  life  shall  be  defended  is  "the  direct 
product  of  good  inheritance,  healthy  infancy,  pro- 
tected and  sufficiently  prolonged  childhood  consecrated 
to  education  in  its  broadest  sense,  youth  sp)ent  in  the 
upbuilding  of  sound  character,  rational  organization 
of  the  occupations  into  which  the  young  enter  at  the 

*Lee:  Play  in  Education, 
t  Dewey  and  Tufts:  Ethics. 


90  Community  Organization 

threshold  of  maturity,  and  attention  to  the  conditions 
under  which  the  wealth  of  the  world  is  produced  and 
distributed."* 

"If  war  or  industrial  depression  or  irregular 
employment  or  famine  or  pestilence  or  epidemic  or 
demoralizing  poor  relief  or  the  luxurious  indulgence  of 
vice  breaks  down  the  standard  of  life,  this  is  for  civili- 
zation its  one  real  disaster,  retrievable,  it  may  be,  by 
long  and  painful  effort,  but  very  probably  not  in  the 
same  nation  or  community.  Such  a  disaster  is  not 
easily  retrieved.  Earthquake  or  flood  or  fire  or  defeat 
in  arms  may  be  but  a  slight  disaster  in  the  large  per- 
spective of  history,  but  any  force  which  reaches  the 
inner  standards  of  the  people,  their  ideas  as  to  what 
manner  of  life  they  should  lead,  has  a  cumulative  and 
icalculable  eft'ect  on  all  their  future  welfare."! 

♦Devine:  The  Normal  Life,  p.  158. 
tDevine:  op.  cit.  p.  157. 


CHAPTER   VI 


SOME     IMPORTANT    TASKS 


In  the  preceding  chapters  we  have  seen  something- 
of  the  backgrounds  of  institution  and  attitude  which 
condition  the  development  of  a  community  program. 
We  have  seen  how  that  program  is  rooted  in  individ- 
ual life  and  need  in  these  complex  times,  and  how  it  is 
called  for  by  the  developing  social  intelligence  of  the 
age.  We  have  caught  some  glimpse  of  the  standards 
of  achievement  which  such  a  program  hopes  to  reach. 
We  have  now  to  see  further  what  large  specific  tasks 
of  reconstruction  will  confront  this  community  spirit 
as  it  emerges  into  actuality  and  takes  charge  of  the 
destiny  of  our  communities. 

Old  attitudes,  indolent  and  slipshod,  have  left  in 
our  communities  many  social  defects  for  which  the 
only  excuse  we  can  ofifer  is  that  we  have  no  adequate 
knowledge  or  methods  of  procedure  for  their  cure. 
These  defects  and  problems,  some  of  them  shocking 
in  their  careless  contempt  for  human  well-being  and 
happiness,  exist  because,  as  we  say,  we  know  no  way 
of  curing  them.  Here  and  there  a  devoted  individual 
or  a  conscientious  group  spends  unmeasured  time  and 
energy  in  tinkering  at  the  job.    It  is  too  much  as  if  a 

91 


92  Community  Organisation 

physician  sought  to  heal  an  organic  ill  by  some  sort  of 
local  palliative.  Such  work  is  indeed  not  to  be  lightly 
esteemed,  but  its  chief  value  seems  to  be  to  show  its 
own  ineffectiveness  and  to  throw  us  completely  back 
upon  the  general  proposition  that  community  ills  must 
be  cured  by  community  remedies,  even  though  those 
remedies  should  be  so  radical  as  to  go  to  the  very  root 
of  community  life  and  organization. 

Our  communities  are  well  acquainted  with  these 
failures,  lacks,  and  general  insufficiencies.  It  may  be 
stated  dogmatically  that  very  few  individuals  under 
present  social  conditions  achieve  a  vigorous,  positive 
and  abundant  life.  Inadequate  interpretations  of  life, 
especially  on  moral  and  religious  grounds;  fra'g- 
mentary  forms  of  institutions,  nurturing  fragmentary 
forms  of  living;  inadequate  perceptions  of  the  facts  of 
life,  stimulating  perverted  expressions  of  normal  en- 
ergy; false,  specious,  insufificient  ideals  of  individual 
and  group  relationships,  fostering  narrow  and  preju- 
dicial types  of  social  living;  uncriticized  and  inade- 
quate theories  of  human  happiness,  tending  to  limit 
the  ranges  within  which  legitimate  human  expression 
may  proceed :  all  these  elements  in  our  common  living 
show  us  the  extent  to  which  our  communities  fail  to 
rise  to  the  levels  of  even  our  practical  ideals.  They  also 
show  the  great  areas  of  utterly  unwarranted  individ- 
ual, group,  and  community  suffering  through  the  per- 
petuation of  maladjustments  of  all  sorts  which  are 
accepted  either  because  we  are  too  indolent  to  call 


Some  Important  Tasks  93 

them  in  question,  or  because  our  theory  of  the  world 
assumes  that  they  are  a  natural  part  of  human  living. 

This  latter  explanation  has  no  longer  any  legitimate 
reason  for  existence.  There  was  a  time  when  men  ac- 
cepted yellow  fever  as  of  the  very  nature  of  human 
existence,  not  to  be  questioned  by  the  trusting  religious 
mind.  That  time  is  gone.  No  one  to-day  assumes  that 
it  is  blasphemous  to  put  yellow  fever  out  of  exist- 
ence, and  with  it  that  scandalous  mosquito  whose  chief 
service  to  the  world  has  been  the  carrying  of  fever 
germs.  Doubtless  that  mosquito  has  a  perfect  right 
to  live;  if  so,  let  it  reform  its  ways!  If  not,  let  it  per- 
ish in  its  sins!  In  the  same  fashion  we  may  say  that 
those  human  beings  and  those  social  institutions  which, 
fatten  upon  the  defects  and  the  miseries  of  life  have 
a  perfect  right  to  live,  but  not  by  the  continuance  of 
their  present  modes  of  living.  The  community  has  ex- 
actly the  same  right  to  call  in  question  their  legitimacy 
as  it  has  to  call  in  question  the  right  of  the  mosquito 
that  carries  the  fever  germ. 

The  most  comprehensive  task  of  the  community 
spirit  therefore  is  that  of  applying  determined  stand- 
ards of  human  well-being  and  excellence  to  all  the 
conditions  of  living  and  to  the  outcomes  of  our  pres- 
ent forms  of  living.  This  application  will  show  the 
extent  to  which  our  living  fails  to  reach  the  level  of 
assumed  ideals,  and  this  will  set  for  us  the  great  tasks 
of  the  community  of  the  future.  We  may  note  that 
these  community  defects  or  shortcomings  can  be  set 


94  Community  Organisation 

forth  under  two  general  groupings.  First,  in  all  our 
communities  there  are  certain  defects  that  we  may  call 
functional;  by  this  is  meant  shortcomings  in  life  and 
service  of  a  general  sort  wherein  the  community  fails 
to  provide  adequately  for  the  well-being  of  its  con- 
stituent riiembers.  The  second  of  these  defects  may  be 
called  structural — meaning  by  this,  shortcomings, 
overlappings,  exaggerations,  and  lacks  of  various 
kinds  in  specific  institutions  of  the  community. 

Considering  what  we  have  called  functional  defects, 
we  may  assume  a  contemporary  suggestion  that  there 
are  three  such  types  of  evil  in  our  community  life: 
first,  there  are  the  physical  defects  which  limit  human 
life  through  the  shortcomings  of  the  physical  world 
in  which  we  live,  including  our  own  bodies.  These  are 
our  diseases,  undernourishments,  lack  of  vitality,  bad 
living  conditions,  inadequate  sanitation,  and  the  like. 
Second,  there  are  certain  psychological  defects,  or 
evils  of  character,  such  as  ignorance,  undisciplined  im- 
pulse, unbridled  will,  and  all  those  other  elements  in 
human  nature  which  tend  to  defeat  the  working  out 
of  a  completely  human  progress.  Third,  there  are 
certain  social  defects, — "evils  of  power," — which  are 
the  effect  of  the  groupings  of  peoples  in  communities. 
These  are  such  as  poverty,  tyranny,  and  the  general 
degradation  of  individuals*  and  groups  through  the 
unequal  distribution  of  ability  and  power.  These  three 
types  of  functional  defect  run  through  all  our  com- 
munity living  and  social  organization.    They  make  up 


Some  Important  Tasks  95 

the  bulk  of  what  is  commonly  known  as  "human  na- 
ture" and  they  seem  to  stand  large  in  the  way  of  any 
social  progress.  But  our  purpose  will  be  not  to  see 
them  as  ultimate  obstacles  to  social  progress  but  as 
problems  to  be  solved  on  the  way  to  a  more  adequate 
community  life.  It  may  be  that  they  will  not  all  ever 
be  wholly  solved;  but  so  long  as  any  part  of  such 
problem  remains  it  should  remain  as  a  challenge  to  the 
intelligence  of  the  community,  not  as  an  excuse  for 
community  indolence. 

Considering  what  we  have  called  structural  de- 
fects, we  may  well  ask  such  questions  as  these :  As  to 
the  home,  was  it  a  sort  of  rural  isolation  that  gave 
strength  to  this  institution  in  the  old  days?  Does  the 
loss  of  that  isolation  mean  inevitable  weakening  of 
the  home?  Or  does  it  make  necessary  those  large  re- 
adjustments which  all  institutions  are  undergoing  in 
their  transition  to  the  more  complicated  life  of  the 
city? 

As  to  business  and  industry,  we  seem  lost  to-day  in 
an  incessant  circle  of  price  increases  and  wage  in- 
creases which  solve  nothing,  but  which  seem  merely 
to  add  endlessly  to  economic  unrest.  Is  there  no  es- 
cape from  this  incessant  circling?  Cannot  industry  be 
organized  in  such  a  way  that  the  distribution  of  the 
consumable  goods  of  the  world  shall  be  more  ade- 
quately performed  and  something  of  the  endless  in- 
dustrial unrest  be  solved  ? 

As  to  our  churches,  we  stand  at  the  crossroads,  it 


96  Community  Organisation 

would  almost  seem.  Religion  once  served  to  soothe  the 
angry  hungers  of  the  poor,  while  they  thought  that 
the  inequalities  of  this  earth  would  be  made  up  to  them 
in  a  better  land.  The  day  of  that  sort  of  palliative 
seems  gone  forever.  Either  religion  must  signify 
something  of  essential  good  in  the  life  that  now  is,  or 
else  it  must  make  room  in  the  energies  of  men  for 
something  that  will  so  signify.  Can  religion  measure 
up  to  this  essential  and  justifiable  demand  ? 

As  to  our  education :  in  an  age  when  as  never  before 
the  world  has  need  of  growing  insight  and  larger  out- 
look, how  can  that  school  be  justified  which  merely  re- 
peats the  unquestioned  platitudes  of  the  past?  The 
war  was  won  for  the  western  Allies  largely  because 
large  constructive  and  inventive  intelligence  played 
through  every  phase  of  physical,  chemical,  and  medical 
science,  inventing  new  means  of  warfare  and  new 
modes  of  saving  broken  men  from  death,  in  order  that 
they  might  fight  once  more.  In  this  very  process  old 
social  structures  were  shaken  to  their  foundations  as 
they  had  not  been  shaken  in  centuries.  In  the  organi- 
zation of  new  social  structures  either  old  unintelli- 
gent habit  or  undisciplined  impulse  or  critical  intel- 
ligence must  serve  as  leader.  Who  can  doubt  which 
one  of  these  three  should  so  serve?  But  where  in  any 
school  does  critical  intelligence  bravely  claim  the  right 
so  to  lead  as  over  against  old  unintelligent  habit  or 
mere  undisciplined  impulse?  Is  there  any  hope  that 
our  centers  of  learning  will  dare  to  become  centers  of 


Some  Important  Tasks  97 

critical  intelligence,  bravely  facing  the  tasks  of  social 
inventiveness  thrown  up  by  the  institutional  shocks  of 
the  war? 

As  to  the  state,  civic  control,  local,  national,  and 
international,  is  more  thoroughly  unsure  than  ever 
before  in  many  centuries.  Old  forms  of  autocratic 
government  have  practically  failed.  Political  unrest  is 
a  universal  phenomenon  of  the  present.  Democratic 
aspiration  springs  up  everywhere  in  the  most  unex- 
pected corners  of  the  earth.  Democracy  cannot  be 
wrought  out,  President  Wilson  declares,  on  any  nar- 
row national  foundation.  The  whole  earth  must  be 
its  stage,  and  all  the  men  and  women  of  the  earth 
must  have  a  share  in  the  great  play.  Some  say  that 
this  has  awal<;ened  aspirations  in  many  backward  peo- 
ples beyond  the  possibility  of  realization.  Others 
insist  that  there  can  be  no  essentially  human  aspirations 
beyond  the  means  of  realization.  These  claim  that  this 
age  is  merely  determined  to  make  a  world  in  which 
human  beings  will  be  able  to  realize  a  worthy  life. 
Governmental  control  based  on  the  theory  that  the 
majority  have  a  right  to  rule  has  involved  many 
inconsistencies  and  unfairnesses.  Minorities  have  been 
unintelligently  and  ruthlessly  suppressed,  and  even  in 
America  so-called  constitutional  rights  have  been  de- 
nied beyond  the  ability  of  anyone  to  justify  in  demo- 
cratic terms.  Can  the  state  hope  to  survive  in  the 
midst  of  the  almost  universal  criticism  leveled  against 
it  to-day?    Or,  if  it  survives,  must  it  not  inevitably 


98  Community  Organisation 

take  upon  itself  very  different  form  and  perhaps  modi- 
fied functions?  At  any  rate,  these  are  some  of  the 
larger  problems  which  the  larger  community  intelli- 
gence of  the  future  will  be  called  upon  definitely  to 
grapple  with.  They  may  not  be  left  to  occasional 
individuals  or  disinterested  small  groups.  The  com- 
munity as  a  whole  must  concern  itself  with  these  prob- 
lems if  the  democratic  community  is  to  survive. 

Beyond  these  more  general  descriptions  of  the  great 
task  that  confronts  the  community  spirit  we  may  pause 
a  moment  to  consider  some  of  the  specific  problems 
which  this  same  spirit  will  take  over  from  its  pioneer- 
ing individual  social  workers  and  its  socially-minded 
groups.  Such  a  catalogue  as  can  here  be  set  forth  will 
seem  to  many  a  social  worker  little  less  than  humor- 
ous, by  reason  of  the  fact  that  each  of  these  prob- 
lems has  been  made  the  basis  of  a  large  literature  and 
carries  within  itself  many  a  heroic  story  and  a  record 
of  great,  social  effort.  There  is  no  intention,  however, 
to  minimize  the  importance  of  any  social  work  done 
in  the  past  or  the  large  significance  of  any  one  of  these 
problems.  The  intention  is  merely  to  show  the  setting 
of  all  these  problems  in  the  light  of  the  larger  com- 
munity intention  and  to  give  to  social  pioneers  the 
assurance  that  from  this  time  forward  they  need  not 
work  in  isolation  at  their  tasks,  since  the  community 
as  a  whole  is  now  profoundly  concerned  that  their 
work  shall  succeed. 

No  social  problem  can  be  really  solved  in  isolation 


Some  Important  Tasks  99 

from  other  social  problems  or  in  isolation  from  the 
life  of  the  community  as  a  whole.  Unemployment  is 
not  important  merely  because  certain  individuals  are 
out  of  work;  rather  it  is  evidence  that  the  industrial 
system  of  the  whole  community,  perhaps  of  the  whole 
world,  is  out  of  joint  in  some  way.  Poverty  is  not 
merely  due  to  the  indolence  or  meanness  of  particu- 
lar individuals;  it  is  again  a  social  disease,  which  can 
never  be  wholly  cured  by  local  treatment  of  individ- 
uals. Doubtless  there  are  ineffective  individuals; 
doubtless  there  are  defectives  who  alone  never  could 
be  other  than  poor.  But  as  long  as  able  men  and 
women  who*  might  make  large  contributions  to  the 
world  are  largely  defeated  in  those  contributions  by 
reason  of  their  poverty,  poverty  cannot  be  cured  by 
lecturing  the  poor  or  by  charity. 

Industrial  unrest,  degrading  types  of  work,  disin- 
tegration of  work  habits,  and  the  like,  are  vital  phe- 
nomena expressive  of  disintegrating  conditions  in  the 
whole  structure  of  society,  conditions  which  can  be 
cured  only  as  they  are  seen  to  be  integral  in  the  pres^ 
ent  organization  of  the  world  and  are  dealt  with  in 
terms  of  those  organic  changes  which  eliminate  their 
causes  and  substitute  positive  elements  in  their  place. 

The  problems  of  women  in  industry  and  of  child 
labor  are  not  merely  problems  of  erratic  individuals 
who  against  the  advice  of  their  friends  and  physicians 
insist  upon  making  a  little  extra  pin  money.  Child 
labor  especially  is  a  problem  lying  at  the  very  heart  of 


100  Community  Organisation 

the  whole  modern  social  situation.  Children  must  have 
a  chance  to  work;  but  at  the  same  time  they  must  be 
protected  from  exploitation  even  if  that  calls  for  all 
the  police  power  of  the  state.  Nothing  but  the  con- 
trol of  a  thoroughly  enlightened  community  can  ever 
adequately  handle  such  questions. 

The  problems  of  so-called  "white  slavery,"  of  mar- 
riage and  divorce,  of  the  home  and  family  life,  and  of 
eugenics,  are  all  integral  in  the  general  problem  of 
economic  independence  and  self-respecting  moral 
intelligence.  The  problems  of  defective  and  delinquent 
children,  of  poverty  and  pauperism,  of  crime  and  pun- 
ishment for  crime,  also  are  not  functions  of  particular 
individuals,  since  it  is  well  known,  for  example,  that 
prisons  as  frequently  make  criminals  as  they  reform 
them. 

The  problems  of  the  intermingling  of  races  are  not 
to  be  stated  or  solved  in  the  personal  likes  and  dis- 
likes of  particular  individuals  but  in  the  statesmanship 
of  the  world,  and  in  the  working  out  of  the  great 
fundamental  economic  readjustments  by  which  partic- 
ular people  may  achieve  their  own  self-respecting 
economic  independence.  It  may  even  be  that  such 
problems  are  functions  of  that  deeper  biology  and 
psychology  which  are  still  so  mysterious  to  us  to-day. 

The  point  to  all  this  is  that  while  each  one  of  these 
separate  problems  must  undoubtedly  remain  the  par- 
ticular interest  of  some  socially  minded  individual  or 
group  and  must  still  build  up  its  own  larger  literature. 


Some  Important  Tasks  101 

the  hope  of  the  solution  of  the  problem  by  itself  seems 
fallacious.  The  social  worker  in  that  particular  field 
needs  to  become  one  of  a  staff  of  community  workers 
who  all  together  engage  in  the  great  job  of  curing  the 
ills  of  the  community,  each  working  at  his  particular 
task  in  the  light  of  a  common  understanding  sym- 
pathy and  program. 

Too  long  these  "social  problems"  have  been 
regarded  as  the  tasks  of  "social  workers."  Poverty, 
charity,  defect,  and  the  like,  are  not  the  private  prob- 
lems of  anyone;  we  must  see  them  now  distinctly  as 
tasks  of  the  community. 

Indeed  the  very  meaning  of  community  itself  may 
be  at  the  root  of  the  matter.  We  confuse  our  terms : 
a  mere  aggregation  of  people  is  not  a  community.  It 
may  be  a  fortuitous  concourse  called  together  by  a  tem- 
porary motive.  Even  a  congregation  is  not  a  com- 
munity. That  may  be  a  more  permanently  motived 
group  meeting  occasionally.  As  stated  above,  a  com- 
munity is  not  a  "gregation"  at  all;  it  is  something 
that  has  passed  beyond  the  stage  of  getting  together 
and  just  is  together,  permanently,  in  a  wide  range  of 
interests,  common  activities,  and  profound  hopes.  The 
process  by  which  aggregations  of  persons  develop  into 
permanent  human  communities  holds  the  largest  part 
of  the  story  by  which  men  have  achieved  civilization. 

Now  our  American  life  is  in  all  stages  of  develop- 
ment between  the  mere  aggregation  and  the  real  com- 
munity.    Many  of  our  neighborhoods,   especially  in 


102  Community  Organisation 

the  cities,  are  mere  aggregations.  Only  here  and  there 
over  the  country  at  large  has  the  old  wandering,  pio- 
neering spirit  of  independent  individualism  been  over- 
come and  the  instinctive  neighborliness  of  common 
life  taken  its  place.  The  strength  of  America  in  the 
century  of  expansion  was  this  pioneering  individual- 
ism. So  long  as  men  lived  on  farms  or  in  small  scat- 
tered villages  the  pioneer  was  a  tower  of  strength. 
But  in  the  cities  he  becomes  a  belated  obstacle  to  the 
achievement  of  community  solidarity,  without  which 
the  city  becomes  a  ghastly  struggle  for  existence  in 
which  the  weak  are  ruthlessly  destroyed  by  imper- 
sonal forces  over  which  no  one  admits  he  has  any 
control.  The  strength  of  the  strong  is  exaggerated, 
the  weakness  of  the  weak  is  over  emphasized,  the  pov- 
erty of  the  poor  becomes  his  destruction,  and  all 
because  an  old  theory  of  life  declared  that  nothing 
must  be  put  in  the  way  of  the  individual. 

In  the  long  run,  therefore,  the  big  task  of  com- 
munity leadership  and  organization  is  the  task  of 
community  education.  The  whole  structure  of  our 
education  must  be  made  over — in  motive,  in  spirit,  in 
atmosphere,  and  in  projected  outcome — until  the  old 
blatant  individualism  passes  away  and  in  its  place 
comes  the  new  sense  of  individual  responsibility  for 
the  common  good,  which  is  the  foundation  of  com- 
munity. But  this  demands  the  development  of  an  edu- 
cation that  shall  go  far  beyond  the  years  of  childhood 
and  that  shall  range  far  bevond  the  curricula  of  the 


Some  Important  Tasks  103 

schools.  The  education  needed  for  this  great  task  must 
understand  that  all  the  people,  whatever  their  age,  are 
being  educated  to  something  or  other  as  long  as  they 
live;  and  that  there  is  no  fact  or  idea  or  theory,  physi- 
cal, historical,  or  social,  in  all  the  ranges  of  the  world, 
that  should  be  excluded  from  the  intelligence  of  the 
community. 


CHAPTER  VII 

TYPES  OF  PRELIMINARY  EFFORT 

The  ideal  of  a  normal  community  must  include  an 
infinite  variety  of  details;  it  is  not  some  finally  attain- 
able social  order,  but  an  endless  series  of  efforts  at 
a  more  adequate  adjustment  of  many  details.  Each 
of  our  institutions  has  had  grave  ups  and  downs  in 
the  course  of  history;  they  will  have  other  more  or 
less  grave  reconstructions  in  the  future.  Even  the 
most  conservative  accepts  the  need  of  some  occasional 
patching  of  the  fabric,  while  the  more  radical,  as  their 
name  implies,  would  go  to  the  root  of  the  matter.  But 
every  new  adjustment  is  likely  to  produce  new  over- 
balances, new  maladjustments,  new  evils. 

These  necessities  for  continuous  readjustment 
become  more  or  less  obvious  to  us  all,  and  nearly 
every  one,  certainly  every  considerable  group  in  the 
community,  has  some  sort  of  social  program.  But  a 
social  program  is  never  self-realizing;  hence,  each  pre- 
supposes some  sort  of  social  method  or  technique. 
The  result  is  that  there  are  at  least  as  many  different 
sorts  of  competing  social  methods  as  programs. 

Most  of  these  programs  of  community  reconstruc- 
tion are  pious  hopes,  the  projection  of  feelings  of  fear, 

104 


Types  of  Preliminary  Effort  105 

though  all  of  them,  perhaps,  have  some  measure  of 
social  intelligence  in  them.  They  are  not  new,  except  in 
detail.  Utopian  aspirations  are  probably  as  old  as  the 
race  itself.  But  as  the  thoughts  of  men  have  widened 
these  programs  have  become  inclusive  of  ever  broader 
human  goods.  And  as  the  methods  of  the  social 
sciences  have  become  more  authentic  the  details  of 
these  programs  have  become  more  concrete. 

Methods  of  social  work  are  of  three  general  types; 
they  involve  work  with:  (a)  individuals;  (b)  groups; 
(c)  the  community  as  a  whole. 

The  rationale  of  these  three  types  of  method  may  be 
found  in  the  historic  conceptions  of  "salvation."  For 
example,  there  is  an  atomistic  conception  of  society 
which  assumes  that  social  progress  is  primarily  a 
function  of  individual  change.  The  community  will 
be  saved  by  the  saving  of  the  individuals  who  com- 
pose it. 

There  is  another  theory  that  society  will  be  "saved" 
by  a  special  group, — in  certain  old  writings  "rem- 
nants," "chosen  peoples,"  and  the  like.  This  is  closely 
akin  to  a  modern  social  theory  that  a  certain  group  or 
class  in  the  community  is  particularly  responsible  for 
the  welfare  of  the  community.  John  Locke  says,  for 
example,  that  if  the  gentlemen  of  England  are  prop- 
erly educated  they  will  quickly  bring  all  the  rest  of  the 
community  into  line.  And  all  through  the  ages  relig- 
ious groups  as  well  as  many  other  kinds  of  groups 
have  considered  themselves  the  "salt  of  the  earth." 


106  Community  Organisation 

Hence  a  distinctive  type  of  social  method  directs  its 
energies  to  the  organization  of  these  saving  groups. 

With  the  third  type  the  whole  community  is  the 
object  of  social  effort.  There  is  a  feeling  that  neither 
by  snatching  individuals  "as  brands  from  the  burn- 
ing" nor  by  the  development  of  special  saving  groups 
can  society  as  a  whole  be  adequately  defended.  Those 
who  hold  this  view  feel  that  a  program  inclusive  of 
every  individual  and  group,  and  every  legitimate  inter- 
est within  the  individual  or  group  life,  must  be  the 
basis  of  all  social  effort. 

Now  it  is  obvious  that  there  is  substantial  merit  in 
each  of  these  points  of  view,  and  that  only  a  narrow, 
institutionalized  struggle  for  prestige  can  justify  spe- 
cific emphasis  upon  any  one  of  them  to  the  exclusior 
of  the  others.  To  be  sure,  habit  is  strong  in  us,  and 
special  techniques  develop  in  themselves  domineering 
qualities,  and  with  the  best  of  intentions  in  the  world 
any  one  of  us  may  become  servile  to  any  mode  of 
work.  Hence,  it  is  necessary  to  survey  them  all  and 
while  critically  estimating  their  significance  for  com- 
prehensive social  progress,  work  out  a  plan  of  pro- 
cedure which  will  make  sure  that  no  well-intentioned 
effort  shall  be  thwarted  through  badly  directed 
methods. 

Likewise  it  is  evident  that  any  program  that  has 
held  or  holds  the  interest  of  any  considerable  group 
must  have  some  merit.  Many  such  programs  have 
been  proposed,  but  most  of  them  are  tainted  with  a 


Types  of  Preliminary  Effort  107 

certain  absolutism  of  form,  and  democracy  cannot 
make  progress  by  absolute  steps.  Its  programs  must 
be  hypothetic  and  subject  to  criticism  and  reconstruc- 
tion. The  full  meaning  of  this  will  dawn  upon  us 
slowly.  Perhaps  some  contrasts  will  help  to  establish 
the  point.  In  this  chapter  we  shall  consider  certain 
programs,  most  of  which  bear  the  taint  of  absolu- 
tism and  finality.  These  programs  are  useful  and 
helpful  in  so  far  as  they  forecast  a  fairer,  finer  future. 
They  are  hindrances  in  so  far  as  they  insist  upon  the 
absolute  character  of  that  future. 

Out  of  the  wide  variety  of  points  of  view  three 
types  of  program  of  a  more  conservative  character 
may  be  mentioned : 

Laisses  Faire — The  program  of  community  salva- 
tion by  "letting  well  enough  alone." 

Individualism — The  program  of  community  salva- 
tion by  individual  progress. 

"Business  Common  Sense" — The  program  of  com- 
munity salvation  by  concentration  on  the  production 
of  wealth. 

"Laissez  Faire"  insists  that  all  restrictive  measures 
in  social  policy  are  bad  because  they  disturb  the  natu- 
ral course  of  events.  Regulation  is  unwise  because  it 
forces  men's  actions  into  artificial  lines,  whereas  it 
would  be  much  better  to  let  them  follow  natural  lines. 
Men  have  the  natural  right  to  carry  on  their  economic 
affairs  as  they  choose,  and  they  have  found  in  prac- 
tice  that    interference   and    regulation   produce    evil 


108  Community  Organisation 

rather  than  good.  Hence  there  should  be  no  supervi- 
sion by  the  government  over  matters  of  labor,  wages, 
hours,  industry,  commerce,  agriculture,  or  other  ele- 
ments of  production,  distribution,  exchange  or  con- 
sumption. Government  should  have  but  three  func- 
tions, viz.,  to  protect  the  nation  from  external  attack, 
to  protect  individuals  from  injustice  or  violence  at  the 
hands  of  other  individuals,  and  to  carry  on  educational 
and  other  institutions  of  a  general  utility.* 

Individuahsm  holds  that  men  have  some  responsi- 
bility for  their  own  welfare,  but  that  responsibility  is 
of  the  individual,  by  the  individual,  and  for  the  indi- 
vidual. The  best  social  progress  will  come  from  that 
"enlightened  selfishness"  which  makes  each  individual 
supremely  concerned  about  his  own  affairs.  For  the 
welfare  of  the  state  is  assured  in  the  welfare  of  each 
individual.  The  basis  of  this  individualism  is  in  what 
Samuel  Smiles  called  "self  help."  This  is  the  root  of 
all  genuine  growth  in  individuals,  and  when  it  is  ex- 
hibited universally  in  the  members  of  a  community  or 
a  state  it  constitutes  the  only  permanent  and  depend- 
able basis  of  national  strength  and  well-being.f  Such 
a  doctrine  certainly  carries  us  into  healthier  social 
areas  than  the  doctrine  of  laisses  faire;  but  it  still 
leaves  us  far  behind  the  advanced  position  which 
social  thinking  and  community  responsibility  is  taking 
to-day. 

♦Cheney:    Industrial    and    Social    History    of    England, 

p.  224  flf. 
t  Smiles:  Self-Help,  p.  1-2, 


Types  of  Preliminary  Effort  109 

"Business  common  sense"  holds  that  the  welfare  of 
the  community  is  obviously  determined  by  the  pro- 
duction of  wealth,  hence  every  obstacle  to  the  largest 
possible  production  of  wealth  must  be  removed. 
Employers  of  labor  must  be  freed  from  all  molestation 
in  the  management  of  their  business;  they  must  be 
assured  of  the  right  to  determine  the  amount  and  qual- 
ity of  production,  the  systems  of  distribution,  and  the 
use  of  methods  and  systems  of  payment  of  wages 
which  are  just  and  equitable. 

Wages  must  not  be  dictated  by  persons  or  organi- 
zations not  directly  concerned  in  the  contract.  Strikes 
are  indefensible,  and  all  questions  of  conditions  of 
labor  must  be  adjusted  by  methods  that  will  preserve 
the  rights  of  both  parties.  Workers  have  the  right  to 
organize,  but  such  organizations  have  no  right  to  inter- 
fere with  the  perfect  liberty  of  contract  as  between 
employers  and  employees.  There  must  be  no  discrimi- 
nation as  to  membership  in  the  union,  and  all  ques- 
tions of  discharge  of  workers  must  be  left  absolutely 
to  the  employment  management. 

The  salvation  of  our  social  order  according  to  this 
view  lies  in  the  turning  over  of  the  complete  con- 
trol of  all  the  processes  of  production  and  distribu- 
tion of  wealth  to  these  managers  of  industry.  They 
identify  this  program  with  an  ancient  "American  doc- 
trine." It  unquestionably  does  hark  back  to  the  old 
pioneering  days  when  each  employee  met  personally 
his  employer  in  the  small  industries  of  the  time,  and 


110  Community  Organisation 

bargained  man  to  man  for  wages.  But  it  is  anti- 
quated doctrine  in  these  days  of  great  industry,  when 
the  employer  can  no  longer  know  his  employees 
personally.* 

These  social  programs  admit  certain  gaps  in  the 
welfare  of  the  community.  Many  of  these  are  due  to 
the  existence  of  individuals  who  are  defective,  men- 
tally, physically,  or  morally,  and  who,  under  any  sort 
of  social  program,  must  be  taken  into  separate 
account.  But  other  gaps  are  caused  by  the  failure  of 
some  individuals  to  accept  their  responsibility.  Hence, 
even  under  such  programs  "social  work"  is  neces- 
sary. But  each  particular  item  of  the  work  is  a  case 
by  itself.  Hence  social  method  takes  the  form  of  "case 
work"  predominantly. 

Case  Work — Modern  social  work  has  largely 
devoted  itself  to  the  care  of  individuals,  either  singly 
or  in  family  groups.  Following  the  best  standards, 
"case  workers"  have  sought  to  know  their  "cases"  fully 
and  specifically;  to  consider  them  in  relation  to  their 
history,  family  connections,  economic  relationships, 
and  the  like;  and  to  prescribe  for  them  in  the  light  of 
the  best  available  knowledge.  It  is  often  charged 
that  these  prescriptions  have  been  of  the  nature  of  local 
palliatives,  such  as  charitable  relief  of  a  temporary 
sort.  Such  relief  has  had  at  times  a  ponderous  qual- 
ity that  has  made  it  almost  inhuman. 

*  Reconstruction  Programs — Weeks,  p.  38. 
Tressal:  Ragged  Trousered  Philanthropists, 


Types  of  Preliminary  Effort  111 

As  social  problems  have  developed  and  social  intel- 
ligence has  grown  "case  work"  has  undergone  severe 
criticism  and  reconstruction.  Under  any  form  of 
social  order  case  work  in  the  sense  of  interest  in  indi- 
viduals and  groups  must  exist.  But  it  is  not  by  itself 
sufficient.  Those  most  interested  in  this  method  are 
concerned  to-day  to  make  it  a  vital  and  integral  part  of 
the  general  program  of  social  betterment,  and  to  res- 
cue it  from  a  former  reputation  as  being  the  method 
by  which  general  industrial  brutality  glossed  over  its 
own  evils.  In  this  movement  case  work  is  coming  to 
be  more  definitely  educational  in  purpose,  more  con- 
cerned with  mental  and  moral  adjustments  of  indi- 
viduals or  family  groups,  and  more  ready  to  turn  over 
the  socially  preventable  forms  of  maladjustment  to 
educational  and  legislative  agencies. 

Not  far  removed  from  these  individualistic  pro- 
grams is  the  religious  doctrine  of  the  so-called  evangel- 
ical churches  which  holds  that  the  community  can  be 
saved  only  by  the  conversion  of  individuals.  They 
would  substitute  for  the  natural  community,  a  new 
community  made  up  of  "brands  snatched  from  the 
burning."  The  true  community  is,  therefore,  just  this 
"communion  of  the  saints."  This  program  does  not 
contemplate  the  permeation  of  the  natural  community 
by  the  spirit  of  brotherhood  so  much  as  the  setting 
up  of  the  religious  structure  as  the  community.  "Man 
himself  is  still  the  greatest  element  in  his  own  prob- 
lem.  How  is  he  to  be  made  new?  We  are  back  once 


112  Community  Organisation 

more  at  the  beginning  and  the  last  word  is  the  first: 
ye  must  be  born  again."*  That  is  to  say,  conversion 
of  the  individual  is  the  method  by  which  this  new 
community  is  to  be  gradually  built  up.f 

Passing  now  to  a  somewhat  less  traditional  con- 
ception of  social  welfare,  we  come  to  the  program  of 
liberalism, — or'  the  salvation  of  the  community  by 
mending  the  flaws  in  the  structure.  Liberals  gener- 
ally contend  that  the  prevailing  order  of  society  is 
essentially  sound  and  that  its  achievements  are  essen- 
tially just  and  beneficial,  but  they  admit  that  there 
are  certain  flaws  lurking  in  the  social  situation 
which  must  be  mended.  These  flaws  are  not  indica- 
tive of  organic  ill  in  the  social  order.  They  are  acci- 
dental, and  therefore  capable  of  being  cured  without 
any  extreme  reorganization.  The  past  twenty-five 
years  have  seen  real  progress.  Some  of  the  main 
abuses  of  the  old  economic  order  have  been  cured. 
Collective  bargaining  has  advanced;  women  and  chil- 
dren have  been  protected;  safety  and  sanitation  in 
work  places  secured;  industrial  insurance  legislation 
has  been  enacted;  and  in  general  the  rights  and  claims 
of  labor  have  been  recognized. 

Other  evils  which  still  exist  will  be  cured  in  a 

♦Spear:  The  New  Opportunity  of  the  Church,  p.  31. 

t  It  is  true  that  the  Protestant  denominations  have  worked 
out  well-developed  programs  of  social  legislation,  whose  ulti- 
mate result  would  be  the  re-making  of  our  present  natural 
community.  There  is  a  certain  logical  conflict  between  the 
traditional  method  of  the  churches  and  this  new  social  pro- 
gram. Catholics  and  Jews  have  also  given  expression  to 
these  same  social  ideas. 


Types  of  Preliminary  Effort  113 

variety  of  ways,  among  them  being  the  devtlopment  of 
co-partnerships  and  co-operative  societies.  These 
developments  will  be  very  slow,  but  that  has  been  true 
of  all  enduring  improvements.  Hence,  liberalism  de- 
pends most  completely  upon  the  development  of  educa- 
tion, particularly  the  education  of  the  children.  In  fact 
it  is  quite  likely  that  the  significance  of  education  as  a 
means  of  social  reform  has  been  overdone  by  liberals. 

The  doctrine  that  society  can  be  remade  through 
the  education  of  the  children  is  a  favorite  doctrine  of 
democracy,  and  while  it  holds  certain  elements  of 
truth,  it  is  primarily  an  expression  of  social  indolence. 
All  that  we  hope  for  in  society  we  are  willing  to  put 
off  until  the  next  generation,  if  it  involves  any  degree 
of  sacrifice  on  our  own  part;  but  the  various  evils 
of  society  which  are  dear  to  ourselves  we  can  scarcely 
think  of  giving  up  in  this  generation.  This  doctrine 
goes  so  far  at  times  as  to  suggest  that  we  teach  chil- 
dren to  be  honest,  industrious,  thrifty,  self-sacrificing, 
in  the  midst  of  a  social  order  that  holds  such  virtues 
to  be  evidences  of  weakness.  In  other  words,  we  are 
trying  to  cure  with  a  little  schoolish  talk  what  we  are 
maintaining  as  an  integral  part  of  our  community  life. 

The  doctrine  that  the  social  order  will  be  saved  by 
the  next  generation,  that  is,  by  little  children,  is  the 
lineal  descendant  of  that  old  pharisaic  attitude  which 
was  described  by  the  great  Teacher  in  his  charge 
against  the  Pharisees,  "Ye  bind  burdens  heavy  to  be 
borne  upon  the  backs  of  little  children,  but  ye  will  not 


114  Community  Organisation 

yourselves  so  much  as  touch  them  with  the  tips  of 
your  fingers."  The  fact  is  that  the  education  of  chil- 
dren will  have  only  incidental  influence  on  the  gen- 
eral social  situation  until  such  time  as  the  school  is 
recognized  as  an  institution  of  progress  rather  than 
of  mere  conservation,  and  teachers  come  to  have  a 
more  vital  relationship  to  the  actual  social  world  in 
which  they  themselves  live. 

It  is  doubtful  whether  the  education  of  children  can 
ever  get  far  ahead  of  the  education  of  the  community 
as  a  whole.  In  fact  it  seems  obvious  that  though  the 
technique  of  school  room  procedure  is  very  complete 
the  actual  outcome  of  school  education  is  very  unsat- 
isfactory because  so  much  of  what  goes  on  in  school 
is  irrelevant  to  the  life  of  the  community.  It  is  as  if  a 
flour  mill  were  to  spend  much  time  grinding  out  some 
indigestible  substance  like  wood  pulp:  the  technique 
of  the  performance  might  be  admirable,  the  outcome 
imposing,  but  the  amount  of  nourishment  furnished  to 
the  community  would  be  negligible.  Hence  it  is  likely 
that  before  our  schools  can  get  much  farther  a  more 
thoroughgoing  social  understanding  must  pervade  the 
community,  permitting  such  readjustment  of  the 
schools  to  life  as  will  guarantee  the  actual  relevance  of 
their  performance. 

However,  adult  education,  as  the  British  report  of 
1918  insists,  cannot  be  considered  apart  from  those 
social  and  industrial  conditions  which  determine  in 
large  measure  the  actual  life  and  outlook  of  men  and 


Types  of  Preliminary  Effort  115 

women.  "The  quality  of  an  educational  system  must 
always  depend  to  a  large  extent  upon  the  economic 
framework  of  the  society  in  which  it  is  placed,"  says 
this  report.*  Hence,  any  program  of  adult  education 
must  not  blink  the  fact  that  it  may  develop  into  a 
definite  movement  toward  community  reorganization. 

But  at  present  certain  obstacles  block  the  way  to  any 
complete  program  of  education  for  the  adult  worker. 
The  hours  of  labor  are  too  long;  overtime  work  saps 
the  energies;  changes  of  shift  disarrange  hours  of  leis- 
ure; night  work  tends  to  "unnatural"  routines.  Many 
types  of  work  are  so  monotonous  that  the  worker  must 
devote  all  his  leisure  to  recuperation.  Some  types  of 
work  are  heavy  and  exhausting  beyond  ready  recov- 
ery. Frequent  periods  of  unemployment  discourage 
workers  and  divert  their  attention  from  study.  Extra- 
periods  of  leisure  of  a  regular  sort  are  infrequent. 
And  beyond  these  facts  are  certain  "questions  of  the 
relation  of  the  whole  industrial  organization  to  the 
intellectual  aesthetic  and  spiritual  life  of  the  nation." 

Every  sort  of  program  of  progress  implies  a  more 
effective  and  more  intelligent  citizenship.  The  demo- 
cratic reorganization  of  the  political  life  was  but  the 
first  in  a  series  of  probable  reorganizations,  each  one 
of  which  puts  new  demands  upon  the  intelligence  of 
the  members  of  the  community.  The  reorganization  of 
industry  along  democratic  lines  will  make  necessary  a 
very  wide  diffusion  of  knowledge  of  industrial  pro^ 

*  Parliamentary   Report   of   Committee   on   Adult    Educa- 
tion, 1918,  p.  3. 


116  Community  Organization 

cesses,  both  mechanical  and  executive.  We  are  in  the 
midst  of  new  conditions;  we  shall  never  return  to  the 
old  stupidities.  But  it  is  not  lack  of  good  will  that 
stands  in  our  way.  We  need  real  intelligence  as  the 
basis  of  bold  and  clear  thinking.  The  whole  life  of  the 
community  must  be  concerned  in  the  future  of  edu- 
cation. Good  will  without  intellectual  effort  is  worse 
than  useless;  it  becomes  a  moral  opiate.  Whatever  the 
social  program  of  the  future  may  be,  adult  education 
must  be  one  of  the  effective  methods  of  its  realization. 

In  the  midst  of  the  growing  complications  of  social 
problems  there  are  some  who  seek  either  to  solve  these 
problems  or  to  escape  from  them  by  retreating  into 
some  more  simple  social  condition  of  the  past.  Some 
would  do  this  by  direct  method,  for  example,  by  legis- 
lating complicated  conditions  out  of  existence.  The 
legislation  which  attempts  to  restore  competitive  con- 
ditions in  industry  and  to  dissolve  great  industrial 
combinations  looks  to  this  end.  President  Wilson's 
"New  Freedom"  heralded  such  a  result. 

Others  would  bring  about  this  end  by  more  indi- 
rect methods.  The  originators  of  the  program  of 
single  tax  had  this  outcome  largely  in  mind.  Henry 
George  felt  that  his  program  would  bring  about  con- 
ditions in  which  human  nature  could  develop  what  is 
best  instead  of  what  is  worst  in  it.  He  argued  that  it 
would  permit  enormous  increase  in  the  production  of 
wealth,  that  it  would  secure  an  equitable  distribution 
of  this  wealth,  that  it  would  solve  the  labor  problem. 


Types  of  Preliminary  Effort  117 

that  it  would  make  unearned  property  impossible,  that 
it  would  check  the  greed  of  gain,  and  that  it  would 
open  to  all,  even  to  the  poorest,  the  advantages  of 
advancing  civilization,  and  thus  would  really  "clear 
the  way  for  the  coming  of  that  Kingdom  of  right 
and  justice  for  which  the  Master  told  His  disciples  to 
pray  and  work." 

The  significance  of  the  single  tax  program  has 
shifted  somewhat,  however,  since  the  days  of  Henry 
George.  Land  has  ceased  to  be  the  chief  basis  of 
wealth,  and  therefore  a  single  tax  on  land  would 
probably  not  assure  the  social  reconstruction  that  it 
once  promised.  But  some  such  tax  program  seems 
necessary  in  order  to  end  the  intolerable  exploitations 
from  which  our  communities  now  suffer.  Tax  reform 
will  be  a  factor  in  any  comprehensive  social  program. 
But  probably  no  single  measure  out  of  the  past  will 
solve  the  problems  of  the  present  and  future.  The 
future  of  our  community  life  does  not  lie  behind  us. 
We  are  compelled  therefore  to  accept  these  social 
problems  as  tasks  which  the  social  inventiveness  of 
the  whole  community  must  face.  One  of  the  elements 
of  the  community  which  in  recent  decades  has  been 
attempting  to  contribute  its  proper  share  to  the  solu- 
tion of  these  problems  (even  to  the  extent  of  making 
more  problems)  is  the  "labor  group."  Practically  the 
trades  unions  occupy  the  position  of  the  advocates  of 
"enlightened  selfishness."  They  have  organized  for 
the  purpose  of  protecting  themselves  primarily  along 


118  Community  Organization 

economic  lines.  At  times  these  organizations  have 
been  controlled  by  certain  limited  skilled  groups  and 
have  protected  themselves  against  both  the  -employer 
and  the  unskilled  laborer.  But  more  recently  the  feel- 
ing of  the  solidarity  of  the  labor  group  has  grown  in 
some  places  to  overwhelming  proportions.  And  with 
this  growth  the  labor  program  has  become  more  defi- 
nitely social,  interesting  itself  in  all  phases  of  the 
worker's  welfare.  In  certain  quarters  it  has  even  pro- 
posed a  political  program  of  social  reform. 

The  question  of  method  to  be  employed  in  the 
achievement  of  these  social-economic  ideals  has 
divided  labor  opinion  into  three  main  movements.  The 
more  conservative  group  holds  that  tlie  welfare  of  the 
trades  union  movement  can  best  be  secured  through 
adhering  to  the  principle  of  collective  bargaining  and 
through  supporting  those  political  candidates  and  prin- 
ciples which  are  not  inimical  to  labor  interests.  The 
moderate  group  holds  that  the  welfare  of  the  labor 
movement  can  be  secured  only  through  the  develop- 
ment of  a  definite  labor  party,  which  will  fight  for  the 
program  of  social  legislation  favored  by  the  best  labor 
intelligence.  The  radical  wing  of  the  labor  move- 
ment holds  that  neither  collective  bargaining  nor  indi- 
rect political  action  is  able  to  accomplish  anything 
effective  for  the  workers;  they  emphasize  some  form 
of  "direct  action"  as  the  only  effective  means  of 
advancing  their  "cause." 

"Collective  bargaining"  assumes  the  essential  per- 


Types  of  Preliminary  Effort  119 

manence  of  the  present  industrial  system  with  its  con- 
flict of  interest  between  capitahst  and  laborer.  It  aims 
to  reduce  this  conflict  to  the  minimum  and  to  regulate 
it  in  the  interests  of  justice. 

The  method  of  social  progress  by  legislation  is  prop- 
erly designated  "indirect  action"  in  distinction  from 
the  program  of  certain  economic  elements  which 
undertake  to  bring  about  social  readjustment  through 
direct  economic  processes.  The  program  of  indirect 
action  assumes  that  while  the  major  problem  of  read- 
justment to-day  is  economic,  legislation  must  furnish 
the  intelligent  background  of  general  principles  in 
accordance  with  which  particular  cases  can  be  solved. 
Political  action  does  not  attempt,  generally  speaking, 
to  cure  a  specific  economic  ill  by  some  s^^ecific  act  or 
regulation,  but  rather  to  direct  the  whole  economic  sit- 
uation in  such  a  way  as  to  cure  a  whole  class  of  such 
ills.  This  is  the  basis  of  the  doctrine  that  a  sound  dem- 
ocratic government  must  be  "a  government  of  laws 
and  not  of  men,"  meaning  that  the  particular  personal 
element  must  be  eliminated  from  all  specific  adjust- 
ments, leaving  a  generalized  principle  to  serve  as  the 
basis  of  social  organization.  These  generalized  prin- 
ciples promise  the  development  of  a  great  structure  of 
social  order;  frequently  they  permit  particular  injus- 
tices, and  not  infrequently  they  make  necessary  long 
delays  in  the  adjustment  of  social  difficulties.  This 
has  given  rise  to  strains  of  discontent;  it  has  been 
the  cause  of  much  criticism  of  both  the  structure  of 


120  Community  Organisation 

law  and  its  modes  of  administration;  and  it  has  been 
the  chief  reason  for  the  development  of  the  doctrine 
that  there  is  no  hope  for  real  social  progress  in  this 
indirect  or  political  action. 

It  is  quite  evident,  therefore,  that  law  as  a  method 
of  social  reform  is  under  the  necessity  of  justifying 
itself  to  large  elements  in  the  population.  To  many 
law  seems  not  so  much  a  means  of  securing  progres- 
sive justice  as  a  means  of  maintaining  stagnant  and 
antiquated  injustices.  Most  democrats,  however, 
believe  that  law  is  the  chief  reliance  of  the  people  in 
any  continuous  program  of  social  progress,  and  that 
the  difficulty  lies  not  so  much  in  the  method  as  in  the 
antiquated  content  of  legal  enactment,  the  tendency  of 
both  legislatures  and  courts  to  follow  precedent. 

There  has  been,  therefore,  in  recent  years,  a  consid- 
erable development  in  the  direction  of  what  has  come 
to  be  called  "social  legislation,"  meaning  thereby  a 
type  of  enactment  which  deals  more  directly  with  par- 
ticular social  situations,  making  a  compromise  between 
the  concrete  personal  element  and  the  old  abstract 
legal  element.  This  social  legislation  has  had  a  tre- 
mendous development  in  England  and  America  in  the 
past  two  decades,  but  it  had  its  greatest  development 
in  Germany  in  a  period  dating  back  still  earlier.  In 
this  movement  certain  old  generalized  principles  of 
legality  were  discarded  and  laws  were  made  which 
specified  in  minute  detail  conditions  of  life  and  work; 
and  in  America  at  least  these  were  so  much  at  vari- 


Types  of  Preliminary  Effort  121 

ance  with  the  prevailing  legal  attitudes  of  the  courts 
that  the  first  of  these  laws  were  almost  everywhere 
declared  unconstitutional.  For  example,  a  law  passed 
by  the  legislature  of  Illinois  in  1895  limiting  the  day's 
work  for  women  to-  ten  hours  was  declared  unconstitu- 
tional on  the  ground  that  it  interfered  with  freedom 
of  contract  of  the  individual  woman.  Fifteen  years 
later  the  supreme  court  of  Illinois  decided  that  a  sim- 
ilar bill  limiting  the  day's  work  to  eight  hours  was 
constitutional  on  the  ground  that  under  the  clause 
defining  the  police  powers  of  the  state  the  constitution 
granted  the  legislature  full  power  to  protect  the  health 
of  the  people  of  the  state.  So  by  a  shift  of  constitu- 
tional ground  the  courts  were  finally  induced  by  the 
incessant  labors  of  a  few  social  minded  workers  to 
permit  the  retention  of  this  social  legislation  without 
amendment  to  the  constitution. 

But  everywhere  in  America  the  courts  have  been 
suspicious  of  all  such  legislative  enactments,  though 
the  practice  seems  slowly  gaining  more  general  recog- 
nition. Some  writers  are  warning  us  that  the  ten- 
dency towards  social  legislation  carries  with  it  a  very 
great  danger.  They  believe  that  the  tendency  which 
was  evident  in  Germany  is  growing  also  in  England 
and  America  to  the  extent  that  under  the  develop- 
ment of  this  kind  of  legislation  the  common  run  of 
people  will  be  compelled  to  work  for  capitalistic  indus- 
tries in  return  for  a  secure  livelihood.  Minimum 
wage  laws,  employer's  liability  laws,  and  other  forms 


122  Community  Organisation 

of  social  legislation,  are  cited  as  evidence  that  this 
type  of  social  adjustment  may  result  in  the  legal  recog- 
nition of  the  state's  right  to  compel  the  worker  to  work 
under  regulations  laid  down  by  law,  whether  he  con- 
sents or  not.* 

The  problem  of  social  progress  by  means  of  legis- 
lation is  therefore  not  so  simple  as  some  would  have 
us  believe.  Newspaper  headlines  carry  the  doctrine 
"The  government  is  absolute."  But  this  is  true  only 
within  limits.  In  dealing  with  a  fraction  of  one  per 
cent  of  the  population  the  government  may  exhibit 
great  ardor  and  show  absolute  front,  but  in  the  pres- 
ence of  a  problem  involving  any  considerable  percent- 
age of  the  people  the  government  may  well  consider 
whether  too  great  absolutism  of  attitude  may  not  now 
as  often  in  the  past  result  in  its  own  destruction. 

The  third  and  radical  wing  of  the  labor  movement 
has  developed  the  doctrine  that  the  only  hope  of  prog- 
ress is  through  some  form  of  direct  economic  recon- 
struction. The  laggard  quality  of  law  and  its  seeming 
inability  to  deal  with  specific  injustices  tend  to  make 
them  look  in  other  directions.  For  the  most  part  this 
takes  the  form,  first  of  an  effort  to  "educate"  the 
employing  or  so-called  "exploiting"  class  in  the  com- 
munity. This  education  attempts  to  bring  home  to  the 
employers  the  importance  of  labor's  share  in  production 

*  cf.   Belloc:  The  Servile   State. 
The   workings   of   the   new   Industrial   Disputes   Law   in 
Kansas  will  help  to  determine  this  question. 


Types  of  Preliminary  Effort  123 

by  showing  how  intimate  in  the  process  of  production 
the  laborer  really  stands.  For  example,  he  slows  down 
on  the  work  intentionally,  doing  just  as  little  for  his 
wage  as  he  can  do.  The  word  "sabot"  is  the  French 
word  for  a  clumsy  wooden  shoe  worn  by  French  peas- 
ants and  workers,  which  seriously  impedes  action: 
hence  sabotage  means  slowing  down.  Of  course  the 
word  has  been  expanded  to  cover  a  good  many  other 
forms  of  obstruction :  for  example,  in  western  logging 
camps  the  advocates  of  direct  action  have  been  accused 
of  driving  spikes  into  sawlogs  for  the  purpose  of  put- 
ting the  saw  out  of  business;  of  putting  fragments  of 
metal  into  bearings  for  the  purpose  of  destroying 
machinery ;  and  of  attempting  in  many  other  ingenious 
ways  to  destroy  the  efficiency  of  the  tools  of  industry. 
This  process  is  primarily  for  the  purpose  of  making 
the  employer  realize  that  without  the  full  co-operation 
of  labor  industry  could  be  put  completely  out  of  busi- 
ness. The  fuller  program  seems  to  assume  that  when 
once  the  employer  or  "exploiter"  understands  this  fact 
he  will  just  naturally  quit  and  turn  his  business  over 
to  the  laborers. 

It  is  very  doubtful  whether  the  psychology  of 
sabotage  runs  in  the  direction  of  success.  Men  are 
not  much  frightened  by  frightful  things.  It  is  likely 
that  that  form  of  sabotage  which  consists  in  destroying 
machinery  and  tools  will  necessarily  defeat  its  own 
purpose;  but  it  is  conceivable  that  a  sabotage  of  mere 


124  Community  Organisation 

slowing  down,  the  so-called  ''strike  on  the  job,"  might 
succeed  in  forcing  considerable  economic  reconstruc- 
tion. 

Certain  students  of  current  economic  conditions  are 
saying  that  the  older  instincts  of  workmanship  and 
work  habits  of  the  more  primitive  days  are  being  disin- 
tegrated under  present  economic  conditions,  and  that 
sabotage  is  merely  an  evidence  of  the  failure  of  cur- 
rent industrial  motives  to  stimulate  effective  work; 
that  wages,  loyalty  to  employers,  subordination  to  eco- 
nomic conditions,  and  fear  of  the  police  or  mihtary, 
alike  fail  to  motivate  productive  industry.  From  this 
point  of  view,  sabotage  is  not  so  much  a  settled  deter- 
mination of  working  groups  as  it  is  the  natural  result 
of  the  failure  of  adequate  stimulation.  Muscles  grow 
flabby,  and  nerves  grow  slack,  and  the  will  fails, 
because  the  personal  energies  of  the  individual  are  not 
sufficiently  released  in  the  task;  and  they  are  not  suf- 
ficiently released  because  his  personal  interests  are  not 
sufficiently  engaged.  Sabotage  is  therefore  primarily 
a  negative  protest  against  the  conditions  of  industry, 
and  it  is  extremely  doubtful  whether  such  a  negative 
protest  could  ever  be  transformed  into  a  positive  pro- 
gram or  into  a  substantial  basis  for  social  progress. 
The  hope  entertained  by  some  groups,  therefore,  that 
sabotage  will  prove  to  be  an  effective  social  method, 
seems  futile.  At  the  best  it  can  only  show  the  insuf- 
ficiency of  certain  present  industrial  conditions;  at  the 
worst  it  can  destroy  the  morale  of  the  workers  practic- 


Types  of  Preliminary  Effort  125 

ing  it.  It  can  never  provide  a  more  adequate  organiza- 
tion of  industry  or  a  more  desirable  world.* 

Direct  action  logically  implies  the  possibility  of  gen- 
eral revolution.  The  apparently  impenetrable  quality 
of  much  of  our  institutional  life  seems  to  certain 
extremists  to  leave  no  escape  but  revolution.  When 
institutions  become  absolute  and  impregnable  they  will 
likely  yield  to  no  simpler  remedy  than  absolutism  of 
reform, — ^and  this  may  mean  revolution.  This  hap- 
pened at  the  close  of  the  mediaeval  period. 

To  be  sure,  history  shows  us  few  instances  of  this 
sort.  But  underneath  all  other  modes  of  social  prog- 
ress or  all  other  methods  of  achieving  social  welfare 
runs  this  universal  groping  toward  a  belief  in  the  ulti- 
mate justification  of  violence  in  the  remaking  of  insti- 
tutions. It  may  be  a  counsel  of  despair,  but  it  is 
certain  that  many  of  the  brightest  names  in  human 
history  are  names  of  the  leaders  of  successful  revolu- 
tions. These  leaders,  however,  are  not  usually  asso- 
ciated with  the  violent  aspects  of  revolution,  though 
they  may  have  accepted  the  necessity  of  violence  as  a 
means  of  escape  from  the  iron-clad  qualities  of  insti- 
tutions. 

It  may  be  assumed  that  the  world  will  correct  any 
evil  toward  which  it  can  be  made  to  direct  its  atten- 
tion.  The  difficulty  in  traditional  social  orders  is  that 

*Marot:  American  Trade  Unions,  Ch.  on  Direct  Action. 
Spargo:  Syndicalism,  Industrial  Unionism  and  Socialism. 
Tridon:  The  New  Unionism,  Ch.  3. 
Pouget:  Sabotage. 


126  Community  Organisation 

the  attention  rarely  turns  toward  the  evils,  which  are 
organized  into  the  very  structure  of  institutions.  Vio- 
lence becomes  a  means  of  centering  attention  towards 
the  evils  of  the  situation,  and  the  great  leaders  of  revo- 
lution have  been  men  who  have  brought  forth  positive 
and  constructive  gains  out  of  the  ruins  of  old  institu- 
tions destroyed  by  violence.  Revolution  is  justified  in 
the  Declaration  of  Independence  and  wrought  into 
fixed  institution  in  the  American  Constitution.  Revo- 
lution is  of  course  to  be  justified  only  as  an  extreme 
recourse.  But  not  all  the  sophisms  of  Bourbon  fears 
can  destroy  the  beliefs  of  men  that  when  a  social  sys- 
tem has  become  unendurable  they  have  the  right  to 
change  it. 

But  revolution  need  not  be  violent.  A  peaceful  revo- 
lution is  conceivable.  Those  fundamental  changes  in 
our  economic  and  social  structure  which  will  complete 
the  democratic  reorganization  begun  on  political  lines 
more  than  a  hundred  years  ago,  might  be  achieved 
without  violent  overthrow  of  existent  forms.  The  out- 
come, however,  might  be  some  distinctively  new 
social  order.  It  might  be,  for  example,  some  form  of 
socialism. 

Many  types  of  doctrine  have  been  included  under 
the  general  name  of  socialism.  These  range  all  the 
way  from  the  barest  social  opportunism  to  the  most 
extreme  absolutism  of  Marx's  economic  determinism, 
and  from  the  most  simple  co-operation  to  an  extreme 
state  socialism.   All  these  types  are  agreed  in  one  par- 


Types  of  Preliminary  Effort  127 

ticular,  namely,  that  the  present  production  of  wealth 
involves  enormous  waste  and  that  the  whole  process  of 
industry  must  be  brought  under  a  more  complete 
intelligence  both  as  to  its  production  and  as  to  its  dis- 
tribution. That  is  to  say,  every  type  of  socialism 
insists  that  industrial  processes  shall  be  administered  in 
the  interests  of  public  welfare  rather  than  in  the  inter- 
ests of  private  profit.  This  involves  the  substitution 
for  the  capitalist  wage  system  of  a  system  of  com- 
pletely socialized  industries,  owned  by  all  the  people 
and  serving  all  the  people  democratically.  The  achieve- 
ment of  this  result  will  be  revolution.  Whether  it  shall 
be  the  quiet  result  of  revolution  or  some  more  violent 
and  sudden  overthrow  of  the  existent  order,  various 
groups  of  socialists  do  not  agree.  The  extreme  right 
assumes  that  the  result  will  come  gradually.  The 
extreme  left  looks  for  some  historic  catastrophe  which 
will  precipitate  the  new  system.  This  was  the  hope  of 
Marx,  and  his  followers  profess  to  see  its  fulfillment 
in  the  recent  developments  in  Russia. 

In  all  the  western  democracies  the  more  moderate 
forms  of  socialism  have  gradually  achieved  a  certain 
standing  through  demonstrating  actual  results.  These 
forms  are  scarcely  distinguishable  from  many  of  the 
current  programs  of  individuals  and  groups  who 
would  hesitate  to  admit  that  they  were  socialists.  A 
democratic  socialism  assumes  the  possibility  of  such 
a  universal  intelligence  as  will  enable  all  normal  mem- 
bers of  the  community  to  share  in  the  understanding 


128  Community  Organisation 

and  control  of  all  the  activities  that  affect  in  any  way 
the  common  welfare.  A  state  socialism  works  toward 
the  assumption  by  the  central  governmental  agencies 
of  the  ownership  and  control  of  all  the  activities  that 
affect  in  any  way  the  common  welfare.  A  guild 
socialism  assumes  that  each  particular  organization  of 
industry  will  own  and  control  its  own  instrumentali- 
ties, and  by  operating  these  in  the  interest  of  the  com- 
mon welfare,  will  through  co-operation  with  all  other 
such  groups  contribute  to  the  common  welfare. 

All  these  forms  exist  or  are  coming  into  existence 
slowly  but  surely  under  democratic  developments,  not 
avowedly  but  in  substance.  Only  the  more  extreme 
types  of  socialism  are  radically  revolutionary.  The 
moderate  types  are  largely  at  one  with  all  the  more 
intelligent  liberal  groups  of  the  community  who  are 
working  for  social  progress  through  education  and 
legislation.  In  a  sense  all  intelligent  people  to-day  are 
socialists  and  revolutionists, — they  are  determined  to 
make  a  social  order  in  which  the  instrumentalities  of 
the  common  life  shall  be  redeemed  from  their  tradi- 
tional devotion  to  private  interests;  in  which  more 
largely  the  good  of  all  shall  be  the  concern  of  all. 

But  this  brings  us  to  the  community,  with  its  chal- 
lenging inadequacy  of  organization,  with  its  promises 
of  unrealized  development.* 

*  Illustrations    of   various    concrete    forms    of   community 
organizations  may  be  found  in  the  appendix. 


CHAPTER  VIII 


OBSTRUCTIONS 


As  we  face  the  long  array  of  social  defects  in  the 
average  community, — the  inefficiencies,  the  broken 
lives,  decadent  institutions,  wasted  enthusiasms,  and 
spent  hopes,  on  the  one  hand,  and  then  turn  to  the 
array  of  ideals,  expectations,  and  aspirations  of  the 
best  spirits  of  the  community,  the  wonder  grows  why 
progress  lags  and  why  the  better  day  of  community  is 
so  slow  in  coming. 

But  community  progress  is  a  continuous  compromise 
bet  wen  old  levels  of  ignorant  habit  and  the  demands 
of  changing  conditions.  Mankind  is  ever  prone  to 
bear  the  evils  that  exist,  fearing  to  change  lest  worse 
evils  may  come. 

In  the  development  of  democracy  the  first  general 
movement  was  away  from  organization.  Absolute 
monarchies,  despotisms,  and  even  the  benevolent  gov- 
ernments of  the  seventeenth  and  eighteenth  centuries, 
all  expressed  the  autocratic  over-organization  of 
society.  The  trend  toward  democracy  was  motivated 
partly  by  the  desire  to  escape  from  this  over-organiza- 
tion.  "That  government  is  best  which  governs  least." 

129 


130  Community  Organisation 

In  its  extremest  form,  this  movement  developed  the 
extraordinary  simplicity  of  the  Jeffersonian  regime. 

But  democracy  is  more  than  an  escape  from  old 
mechanisms.  Democracy  must  necessarily  construct 
new  institutional  forms  and  new  social  mechanisms  for 
the  satisfying  of  its  own  needs  and  the  release  of  its 
own  still  largely  unexpressed  life.  That  is  to  say, 
democracy  is  to  be  achieved  not  in  the  freedom  of 
unorganization,  but  in  the  working  out  of  new  and 
more  completely  democratic  types  of  community 
organization. 

There  is  as  yet  however  little  understanding  of  the 
essential  technique  of  democratic  organization  as  dis- 
tinct from  autocratic  forms.  Few  realize  that  democ- 
racy must  definitely  disavow  autocratic  types  of  organ- 
ization and  build  up  its  own  types.  To  esteem  this 
:ask  lightly,  to  assume  that  the  democratic  spirit  can 
live  and  thrive  in  an  order  organized  along  autocratic 
lines,  is  to  fail  to  grasp  the  essentially  natural  char- 
acter of  the  processes  of  community.  This  new  and 
splendid  spirit  cannot  live  healthily  in  old  shells.  Yet 
that  is  largely  what  we  are  asking  it  to  do,  and  what 
we  are  likely  to  continue  to  expect. 

Our  very  loyalties  stand  in  the  way  of  change, — 
loyalties  to  our  classes  and  our  institutions.  We  feel 
the  safety  of  the  community  resting  upon  our  resist- 
ance to  disintegrating  changes.  Vested  wrongs  of 
many  kinds  in  the  community  depend  upon  and 
exploit  these  native  loyalties  for  profit.    Old  forms  of 


Obstructions  131 

parasitic  industry,  business  that  robs  the  poor,  finance 
using  the  "black  hand"  and  covering  up  its  sins  with 
a  mantle  of  gentle  charity,  intolerant  repression  of 
science  and  thinking  in  the  name  of  "patriotism," 
"Americanism,"  or  some  other  specious  phrase — these 
are  illustrations  of  the  endless  story.  The  resultant 
poverty,  low  vitality,  illiteracy,  abnormality,  repression, 
viciousness,  discouragement,  and  the  like,  are  items  in 
the  same  story.  Our  wills  are  weak,  our  lives  are  short 
and  careful,  and  we  wait  to  let  the  next  generation 
solve  its  own  problems.  But  we  need  to  notice  here 
some  elements  that  will  obstruct  any  program  of  com- 
munity organization, — both  passively  and  actively. 

In  the  first  place,  we  shrink  from  facing  issued.- 
Our  institutional  attitudes  do  not  favor  careful  think- 
ing. Most  of  our  social  institutions  are  not  only  con- 
servative in  character,  they  are  pessimistic.  That  is  to 
say,  they  feel  that  their  control  of  the  community 
assures  the  safety  of  the  world;  any  escape  from  this 
control  is  likely  to  be  dangerous.  Schools  distrust 
learning  achieved  outside  the  school.  States  are  fright- 
ened by  the  non-conformist.  The  church  used  to  burn 
heretics,  and  still  ostracises  them.  Competitive 
industry  thinks  of  the  co-operative  or  the  communist  as 
a  traitor  to  economic  welfare.  The  non-conformist  is 
welcomed  in  the  realm  of  science  only;  and  science 
has  not  largely  invaded  the  philosophy  of  either  the 
school  or  the  state,  either  the  church  or  competitive 
industry. 


132  Community  Organization 

These  autocratic  social  attitudes  tend  to  develop 
into  fixed  folkways  which  are  able  to  carry  themselves 
on  from  generation  to  generation  without  effort.  Left 
to  itself  human  nature  easily  sinks  into  habit,  custom, 
and  the  folkway.  For  this  reason  autocracy  is  more 
truly  "natural"  than  is  democracy, — just  as  the  sour 
seedling  apple  is  more  truly  "natural"  than  the  modern 
juicy  variety.  And  just  as  the  finer  breeds  of  plants 
and  animals  must  be  conserved  by  intelligent  selection, 
so  the  finer  strains  of  social  organization  must  be  saved 
by  selection,  adaptation  and  development.  For 
example,  not  every  sort  of  school  is  to  be  accepted  as 
democratic;  most  of  our  present  schools  are  still  highly 
autocratic,  and  our  democratic  aspirations  have  to 
overcome  the  obstacle  of  an  autocracy  inculcated  in 
the  children.  Democracy  will  some  day  learn  the 
absurdity  and  extreme  danger  of  this  type  of 
education. 

In  this  connection,  we  must  consider  what  may  be 
called  the  "dead-hand"  of  organization.  Old  types  of 
method  control  our  leaderships,  and  old  types  of  emo- 
tion control  our  feelings.  The  schoolman  teaches  his 
languages  as  if  they  were  dead,  and  his  history  as  if 
it  had  no  significance  for  the  present.  The  churchman 
hands  down  unchanged  the  "faith  once  delivered  to 
the  saints."  The  politician  is  devoted  to  the  words, 
at  least,  spoken  by  the  fathers  of  the  Constitution.  All 
our  institutions  tend  to  be  interested  in  statistics. 
Churches  have  been  charged  with  laying  large  empha- 


Obstructions  133 

sis  upon  tables  of  memberships,  while  they  neglect 
the  weightier  matters  such  as  justice,  mercy  and  truth. 
The  old  lady  who  got  much  religious  inspiration  out 
of  hearing  her  pastor  say  "Mesopotamia"  could 
scarcely  be  expected  to  share  largely  in  more  modern 
democratic  emotions. 

A  strange  contradiction  appears  in  the  industrial 
and  business  leader.  In  dealing  with  all  physical  mate- 
rials, and  in  connection  with  the  organization  of  the 
productive  side  of  plant  or  industry,  he  welcomes  all 
sorts  of  labor-saving  devices  and  rewards  the  inventor 
highly.  But  on  the  side  of  the  distribution  of  the 
wealth  produced  and  in  connection  with  the  problems 
of  human  welfare  he  is  intolerant  still  for  the  most 
part.  Any  working  man  who  can  show  how  produc- 
tion can  be  speeded  up  is  likely  to  be  looked  upon  with 
favor;  change  is  welcomed  at  this  point.  But  any 
working  man  or  other  individual  who  seeks  to  show 
how  wealth  can  be  distributed  more  equitably  is  likely 
to  be  set  down  as  a  dangerous  agitator. 

Aside  from  these  institutional  inertias  there  are 
certain  more  active  obstructionist  forces  in  the  com- 
munity. One  of  these  is  the  so-called  "organ  of  pub- 
lic opinion"  in  which  public  opinion  has  really  no 
initiative.  The  term  "newspaper"  is  a  misnomer.  Fer- 
rero,  the  Italian  historian  of  the  early  Roman  Empire, 
has  pointed  out  that  any  so-called  organ  of  public 
opinion  is  always  an  agency  for  the  perpetuation  of  a 
particular  partisan  legend.   "Newspapers"  fear  lest  the 


134  Community  Organization 

people  may  learn  to  think  for  themselves ;  "newspa- 
pers" believe  that  the  people  should  be  protected  from 
themselves;  and  this  leads  to  deliberate  attempts  to 
betray  the  public  by  false  reports  of  facts, — at  least  by 
false  emphasis  upon  facts  or  by  editorial  misinter- 
pretation of  fairly  accurate  reports. 

Another  of  these  active  obstructionist  elements  is 
the  superstition  that  only  the  so-called  "practical  man" 
can  be  trusted  with  the  affairs  of  the  world.  This 
practical  man  is  the  product  of  fixed  traditions,  for 
the  most  part,  and  has  no  patience  with  theory  or 
science  except  insofar  as  they  tend  to  bolster  up  his 
narrow  practicality. 

This  practical  man  is  always  a  natural  psychologist. 
He  knows  how  to  manipulate  individuals  and  groups 
without  being  suspected.  He  can  play  upon  human 
feelings,  such  as  cupidity,  fear  and  social  antagonism, 
with  natural  skill;  but  traditionally  he  manipulates 
individuals  and  groups  not  with  a  view  to  the  welfare 
of  the  community,  but  in  the  light  of  some  private 
interest. 

When  this  practical  man  turns  organizer  he  is  in 
danger  of  overlooking  essential  human  elements  in  the 
community's  life.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  these  human 
elements  are  difficult  to  deal  with  from  the  stand- 
point of  organization.  They  will  not  conform.  Indi- 
viduals are  angular;  they  have  initiatives  that  crop 
out  in  the  most  unexpected  and  even  awkward  con- 
nections.  People  who  ought  to  be  able  to  fit  in  and  do 


Obstructions  135 

things  show  no  capacity;  others  who  seem  to  have  no 
natural  fitness  for  sharing  in  plans  may  show  the  most 
extraordinary  capacity  for  things  that  are  being 
accomplished.  Not  infrequently  the  organizer  may  find 
himself  confronted  by  individuals  of  a  more  talented 
character  than  himself.  A  whole  range  of  such  "lost 
talent"  may  be  uncovered  in  any  community.  The 
democratic  community  must  make  sure  that  the  indi- 
vidual is  never  lost. 

The  fact  is  that  the  work  of  the  so-called  "practical 
man"  and  of  the  traditional  organizer  has  been  over- 
done. We  need  avenues  for  the  release  of  the  life  of 
the  people  beyond  the  control  of  these  traditional 
forces.  We  need  to  get  rid  of  sham  forms  of  political 
representation,  which  do  not  represent;  and  leader- 
ships which  do  not  express  the  actual  will  of  the  people 
who  are  being  led.  How  shall  we  really  enfranchise 
the  people  and  get  their  thinking  playing  into  actual 
political  situations  until  government  shall  really  be  "by 
the  people"  ?  At  present  when  agitators  urge  revolution 
they  are  advised  that  in  America  we  have  adequate 
means  of  progress  in  the  ballot.  When,  follow- 
ing this  advice,  they  organize  for  political  adventure 
in  new  directions,  refusing  to  align  themselves  with 
old  political  parties,  they  are  denounced  as  enemies  of 
the  people,  as  un-American,  and  given  whatever  other 
question-begging  epithet  may  be  the  fashion  at  the 
moment.  The  fact  is  that  vested  interests  in  both  poli- 
tics   and    economics    identify    "Americanism"    and 


136  Community.  Organisation 

"patriotism"  with  maintenance  of  the  status  quo;  and 
are  as  much  opposed  to  poHtical  or  economic  change 
brought  about  by  the  ballot  box  as  by  a  more  violent 
revolution. 

Another  of  these  obstructionist  elements  is  found  in 
the  very  wide  development  of  all  sorts  of  social  dis- 
tractions and  sedatives,  more  or  less  intentionally 
designed  to  keep  the  public  quiet  and  to  make  opinion 
innocuous.  The  historic  example  of  this  of  course  is 
the  method  of  keeping  the  Roman  populace  in  control 
by  rations  of  bread  and  tickets  to  the  circus.  Much  of 
our  own  commercialized  amusement  like  baseball  and 
other  games,  sports  and  athletics,  occupying  as  they 
do  a  disproportionate  part  of  the  space  in  our  news- 
papers, tend  to  distract  public  attention  from  import- 
ant matters.  This  of  course  does  not  mean  that  there 
is  no  place  in  the  world  for  sport.  But  it  does  mean 
that  in  a  democracy  there  is  no  such  place  for  commer- 
cialized sport  as  has  been  developed  in  America. 

A  favorite  means  of  wrecking  a  community  pro- 
gram is  found  in  starting  an  outside  demonstration. 
It  is  like  the  old  means  of  breaking  up  a  liberal  meet- 
ing by  starting  a  dog  fight.  Opponents  of  community 
development  are  extremely  active  in  starting  and 
accelerating  inter-communal  rivalries  and  feuds. 
Manipulators  of  special  privilege  in  any  particular 
community,  finding  their  standing  threatened  by  the 
development  of  a  community  program,  will  throw  dust 
in  the  air  and  denounce  the  evils  of  some  neighboriHg 


Obstructions  137 

community,  especially  by  trying  to  show  how  the 
neighboring  community  is  impinging  upon  the  prero- 
gatives of  the  home  community.  Thus  attention-  will 
be  called  off  from  the  evils  within  the  community  for 
a  time,  and  the  manipulator  of  these  vested  evils  may 
even  be  able  to  win  to  himself  the  reputation  of  being 
a  good  citizen. 

The  saloon  was  in  its  day  one  of  the  leading  centers 
of  community  intelligence  and  gang  exploitation  by 
political  and  economic  agents  of  invisible  government 
and  reaction.  Drink  was  one  of  the  greatest  of  social 
sedatives.  Some  even  advocate  the  return  of  the  saloon 
to  our  industrial  centers  on  the  ground  that  multi- 
tudes of  working  men  now  have  no  quick  means  of 
spending  their  money,  hence  they  have  too  much  time 
on  their  hands  and  therefore  tend  to  fall  into  the  bad 
habit  of  talking  politics  and  reading  economics,  and  so 
threaten  to  become  socialists,  communists,  I.  W.  W.'s, 
bolshevists,  and  the  like.  Certain  labor  leaders  and 
industrial  operators  alike  agree  that  men  were  better 
controlled  in  the  old  days  when  it  was  possible  for 
them  to' get  drunk  and  "blow  in"  six  months'  wages  in 
a  single  night.  The  abolition  of  the  saloon  was  one 
of  the  most  terrific  blows  that  vested  wrong*  ever 
received, 

A  fourth  of  these  obstructive  elements  is  to  be  found 
in  the  general  fragmentation  of  social  interest.  There 
is  a  curious  but  intelligible  demand  on  the  part  of 
traditionalists  that  there  shall  be  no  talk  about  the 


138  Community  Organisation 

social  question  since  there  is  no  such  thing.  The  tradi- 
tionahsts  insist  that  there  may  be  many  incidental 
social  problems,  but  each  is  to  be  solved  by  itself  and 
not  to  be  confused  with  any  general  social  problem. 
Hence  there  must  not  be  one  big  labor  union,  since, 
for  some  insidious  reason,  that  would  be  revolution.  If 
there  are  to  be  labor  unions  at  all  they  must  be  weak 
and  small.  After  the  same  fashion  we  must  not  have 
too  much  talk  about  community,  since  that  seems  to 
be  treason  to  class  and  institution.  A  politician  asserts 
that  one  of  the  chief  objections  to  woman's  suffrage  is 
found  in  the  fact  that  women  are  naturally  non- 
partisan ;  that  it  is  difficult  to  make  them  partisan ;  but 
that  the  only  safety  to  our  American  institutions  is  in 
escaping  from  the  evils  of  non-partisanship  into  the 
security  of  an  emphatic  partisanship.  Finally,  there 
must  not  be  too  much  talk  about  internationalism, 
since  that  is  treason  to  the  particular  nation. 

That  is  to  say,  in  all  our  social  efforts  we  are  handi- 
capped by  the  demand  that  we  shall  think  only  of  frag- 
ments of  the  problem,  never  of  the  problem  as  a  whole. 
Now  since  the  human  mind  inevitably  approaches  any 
problem  from  the  standpoint  of  logical  wholeness,  the 
demand  that  we  shall  think  only  of  a  fragment  neces- 
sarily converts  that  fragment  into  a  complete  whole. 
Hence,  traditionalists  are  perfectly  sincere  in  their  con- 
tention that  each  fragment  of  the  social  problem  is  a 
complete  problem  by  itself.  But  a  little  knowledge  of 
the  community  as  a  whole  must  convince  us  that  there 


Obstructions  139 

is  one  general  social  problem  of  which  each  of  these 
so-called  social  problems  is  but  a  fragment;  while  a 
little  knowledge  of  psychology  and  logic  would  show 
us  convincingly  how  easy  it  is  for  us  to  become 
stranded  in  some  psychological  "blind  alley,"  which 
naturally  converts  itself  into  a  sociological  "blind 
alley,"  which  in  turn  transforms  itself  into  a  finished 
world  from  which  any  effort  to  escape  would  be  of  the 
nature  of  treason. 

A  final  obstructionist  element  to  which  attention 
should  be  called  is  that  extreme  radicalism  which  will 
have  nothing  at  all  unless  it  can  have  everything.  In 
the  practical  sense  there  are  many  community  prob- 
lems. Community  organization  does  not  demand  that 
nothing  shall  be  done  unless  everything  can  be  done; 
it  merely  demands  that  whatever  is  done,  however 
small  and  incidental,  shall  be  done  in  the  view  of  the 
whole  problem.  A  reactionaryism  that  sees  nothing 
but  fragments  of  problems,  and  a  radicalism  that  sees 
nothing  but  one  big  problem  to  be  solved  by  revolu- 
tion, are  both  alike  obstructions  to  the  main  task  of 
social  progress.  That  great  task  is  to  see  the  problem 
as  a  whole  in  its  infinite  variety  of  special  phases ;  to  see 
it  grow  larger  and  more  detailed  as  our  acquaintance 
with  theory  and  fact  grows;  and  to  hitch  up  the  many 
varieties  of  social  effort  with  the  many  varieties  of 
social  need  in  such  ways  that  workers  will  feel  their 
own  common  fellowship  in  a  common  task  because 
they  see  the  part  that  each  particular  aspect  of  the 


140  Community  Organization 

problem  holds  to  the  problem  as  a  whole.  In  this  way 
social  workers  would  become  transformed  into  com- 
munity organizers,  and  their  social  work  would  lose 
its  remote,  often  irrelevant,  contradictory  and  mechan- 
ical character,  and,  being  criticized  by  the  needs 
of  the  community  as  a  whole,  would  become  human 
and  social. 

Every  new  way  of  thinking  about  the  world  and 
about  human  relationships  confronts  established 
obstacles.  And  the  fight  is  not  over  when  these  have 
been  overcome.  For  any  movement  as  it  develops  con- 
fronts within  itself  some  of  these  same  obstacles.  The 
hardening  process  of  traditionalism  sets  in;  the  "dead- 
hand"  of  organization  asserts  itself;  the  leaders 
become  impatient  of  new  suggestions  and  of  wider 
theory.  Obstructions  are  not  overcome  once  and  for 
all  in  a  democracy.  The  price  of  democracy  is  eternal 
vigilance. 

There  are  multitudes  to-day  who  feel  that  the  world 
needs  some  sort  of  reconstruction,  but  who  do  not  care 
to  be  reconstructed  themselves.  They  want  change 
without  being  changed.  They  want  leaders  who  can 
tell  them  how  they  can  advance  without  making  effort 
or  without  consenting  to  change  within  themselves. 
These  individuals,  whether  conservative  or  radical, 
lack  social  imagination.  Their  logic  is  very  faulty. 
Only  in  an  unreal  dream  world  do  such  things  happen. 
The  hope  of  community  waits  upon  the  willingness 
and  capacity  of  all  to  become  communal  in  spirit  and 
in  truth. 


CHAPTER  IX 

DEVELOPING   COMMUNITY  DELIBERATION 

Most  of  our  communities  have  been  the  result  of 
historic  accident  modified  now  and  then  by  incidental 
thinking,  by  class  and  group  pressures,  or  by  some- 
thing in  the  nature  of  revolution.  What  is  here  pro- 
posed, what  indeed  is  of  the  very  genius  of  democracy, 
is  a  program  deliberately  and  definitely  thought  out 
and  wrought  into  the  structure  of  habit  and  institution 
by  the  intelligent  will  of  the  community.* 

This  is  not  new.  It  has  been  accomplished  occasion- 
ally in  specific  directions,  notably  in  city  planning  and 
health  programs.  But  it  is  not  a  universal  practice, 
and  it  has  been  adopted  as  a  general  program  dealing 
with  all  the  interests  of  the  community  nowhere. 

There  has  been  in  American  public  life  little  under- 
standing of  the  essentially  democratic  principle  that 
the  various  parties  to  a  community  argument  should 
sit' down  together  and  try  to  come  to  a  conclusion  as 
to  what  is  for  the  best  interests  of  the  community  as 
a  whole, — facing  the  facts  and  the  theories  in  the  case, 
and  accepting  the  consequences  intelligently  set  forth. 
Rather,  each  side  to  the  argument  tries  to  get  ahead  of 

*  Graham  Wallas;  The  Great  Society,  Ch.  11. 
141 


142  Community  Organii:ation 

the  other  and  "put  over"  a  partisan  plan.  That  is  sup- 
posed to  be  the  manly  and  heroic  thing.  Deliberation 
is  supposed  to  be  effeminate  if  not  childish.  In  spite  of 
all  our  talk  about  "team  work"  and  our  supposed 
adherence  to  the  team  spirit  in  our  games,  an  open  fight 
in  which  sheer  will  or  pugnacity  leads  and  in  which 
intelligence  is  at  a  discount,  is  looked  upon  as  the 
proper  procedure.  And  a  discussion  won  by  obstinacy 
is  regarded  as  much  more  worthy  than  one  won  by 
deliberation. 

The  main  reason  for  this  lies  in  the  fact  that  the 
technique  of  democratic  deliberation  has  not  been  ade- 
quately worked  out  anywhere.  It  is  folly  to  assuijie 
that  a  deliberated  program  will  just  naturally  happen. 
It  is  still  greater  folly  perhaps  to  assume  that  the  com- 
munity will  just  naturally  produce  deliberation  and  a 
deliberated  program.  There  is  at  present  no  such  thing 
as  a  community  mind  definitely  set  at  the  task  of 
deliberating  upon  a  community  program.  Democracy's 
salvation  depends  upon  the  development  of  such  a  com- 
munity organ  of  intelligence, — a  social  mind,  capable 
of  critical  analysis  and  deliberative  synthesis  of  a  pro- 
gram fitted  to  the  needs  of  the  community  when  those 
needs  are  examined  democratically.  This  will  involve 
the  working  out  of  a  definite  plan  of  democratic 
deliberation.  The  importance  of  this  must  first  be 
considered. 

Any  program  of  community  organization  must  be 
saved  from  being  identified  with  any  particular  frag- 
ment or  group  or  interest  or  institution  of  the  com- 


Developing  Community  Deliberation         143 

munity.*  This  means  a  number  of  things:  first,  it 
must  be  saved  from  being  made  too  completely  a  muni- 
cipal function  as  long  as  municipal  control  continues 
as  at  the  present  time  in  America  to  be  frequently 
either  inefficient  through  favoritism  and  bureaucratic 
methods,  or  else  distinctly  undemocratic  because  the 
municipal  government  represents  something  less  than 
the  v^rhole  community.  Recreation  programs,  for 
example,  under  the  control  of  the  municipal  authori- 
ties have  been  known  to  become  the  private  possession 
of  some  particular  group. 

The  program  mu'st  be  more  than  the  reiteration  of 
some  old  custom.  It  must  take  into  account  hitherto 
ignored  needs  of  the  people,  especially  those  underly- 
ing instinctive  needs  and  longings  which  our  old-time 
Puritanism  has  labelled  evil. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  program  must  be  something 
more  than  a  merely  temporary  exhibition  of  impulse. 
The  instinctive  needs  of  the  community  must  be  defi- 
nitely included  in  the  working  out  of  the  program, 
but  the  program  itself  must  go  far  beyond  impulse 
and  the  moment  and  provide  for  the  larger  develop- 
ment of  the  growing  future.  This  means  that  it  must 
use  all  available  insight  that  psychology  and  the  social 
sciences  can  bring  to  bear  on  the  problems  of  the 
present.f 

In  other  words,  the  program  that  is  worthy  of  the 

*Elsie  Clews  Parsons:  Social  Freedom. 

t  Whitehead:  The  Organization  of  Thought — Ch.  6. 

Lankaster:  The  Kingdom  of  Man. 

Russell,  B.:  Why  Men  Fight— Chs.  on  Thought  and  EcJ^j- 
cation. 


144  Community  Organisation 

future  of  a  democratic  community  must  be  thoroughly 
intelligent,  rising  above  every  particular  group  inter- 
est and  yet  co-ordinating  all  normal  and  essential  group 
and  individual  aspirations  into  a  common  aspiration. 
This  of  course  might  mean  the  complete  subordination 
of  every  particular  interest  to  one  common  central 
dominating  and  narrow  aim.  This  seems  to  have  been 
the  main  mistake  which  Germany  made  before  the 
war.  Such  a  mistake  is,  however,  not  possible  in  an 
intelligent  program.  An  intelligent  program  will  see 
the  necessity  of  making  every  normal  interest  import- 
ant, thereby  saving  it  from  over-emphasis  on  any 
particular  aspect  and  maintaining  a  richness  and 
variety  of  interest.  This  will  mean  that  always  there 
will  be  a  healthy  play  of  conflicting  aspirations  among 
the  specialized  groups  and  interests  of  the  com- 
munity. Now,  if  this  conflict  of  interests  is  ani- 
mated by  good  will  and  a  common  outlook  its  existence 
will  be  extremely  wholesome.  If  it  becomes  bitter  and 
rancorous  it  is  undesirable.  But  it  is  far  better  that  a 
community  should  be  animated  now  and  then  by  bit- 
ter animosities,  even,  than  that  it  should  be  sunk  in  a 
spiritual  torpor  in  which  some  particular  materialistic 
interest  domineers  over  and  sneers  at  all  other  latent 
and  dormant  interests  of  the  community.  There  is  one 
thing  more  undesirable  than  a  community  feud;  and 
that  is  community  stupor. 

How,  then,  shall  this  deliberative,  analytic,  critical 
orsran  of  social  thinking  be   secured  'for   the  com- 


Developing  Community  Deliberation         145 

munity?  It  would  be  encouraging  if  we  could  believe 
that  the  whole  community  could  be  at  once  interested 
in  its  important  problems.  But  that  would  be  a  rash 
assumption.  Doubtless  thinking  can  be  secured  only 
through  the  organization  of  a  deliberative  group  or 
groups  who  will  be  able  to  bring  to  the  uses  of  the 
community  all  the  pertinent  knowledge  the  community 
needs,  together  with  analytic  and  critical  ability  in  the 
handling  of  that  knowledge,  and  some  spirited  social 
imagination  in  the  working  out  of  programs  for  the 
future.  Such  groups  should  be  small  enough  to  enable 
the  members  to  deliberate  truly,  and  yet  large  enough 
to  provide  actual  representation  of  'all  the  essential 
interests  of  the  community.  This  means,  first,  that  the 
group  will  probably  be  limited  to  not  more  than 
twenty,  since  larger  numbers  would  require  a  formal 
sort  of  parliamentary  procedure,  which  is  the  surest 
means  of  destroying  deliberation.  Fifteen  members 
would  probably  be  more  desirable  than  twenty.  At 
any  rate,  the  number  should  be  such  that  informal  dis- 
cussion, without  too  much  "recognition"  by  the  chair, 
may  be  carried  on. 

In  the  second  place,  if  such  a  board  is  to  represent 
the  varied  interests  of  the  community  we  shall  do  well 
to  make  some  approximate  catalogue  of  those  essential 
interests.  Usually  when  we  speak  of  interests,  organi- 
zations are  understood  to  be  intended.  But  that  is  not 
the  present  intention.  In  a  certain  community  a  Com- 
munity Council  was  made  up  of  delegates  from  vari- 


146  Community  Organisation 

ous  local  organizations,  fraternal,  commercial,  religi- 
ous, and  the  like.  At  the  first  meeting  of  this  board  a 
struggle  for  prestige  began.  It  was  necessary  to  deter- 
mine which  of  these  already  existent  organizations 
should  dominate  the  Council.  The  second  meeting 
began  in  a  wrangle,  and  the  third  and  final  meeting 
broke  up  in  a  row.  Our  present  conception  of  demo- 
cratic co-operation  is  not  very  intelligent.  It  involves 
the  old  primitive  fight  for  prestige;  it  demonstrates 
false  conceptions  of  leadership;  and  it  usually  involves 
the  general  doctrine  of  "rule  or  ruin."  The  community 
councils  of  this  older  type  are  not  brought  together 
to  deliberate  but  to  express  enthusiasm  for  some  pro- 
ject, or  to  adopt  and  act  upon  a  program  handed  down 
to  them. 

A  more  substantial  basis  on  which  to  organize  such 
a  community  group  would  be  somewhat  as  follows : 
Instead  of  having  representatives  of  particularistic 
organizations,  let  the  board  be  made  of  men  and 
women  who  represent  vital  functions  in  the  developing 
intelligence  of  the  community.  What  are  these  vital 
functions?  Every  community  needs  the  intellectual 
help  of  trained  social  scientists;  or,  where  the  com- 
munity is  unable  to  secure  such  experts,  let  it  call  to  the 
service  of  this  deliberative  program  the  men  and 
women  who  have  the  largest  possible  outlook  upon 
these  social  science  fields.  The  lack  of  trained  students 
is  not  as  bad  as  it  might  be,  because  every  community 
must  definitely  begin  where  it  is,  and  there  would 


Developing  Community  Deliberation         147 

probably  be  some  danger  in  having  a  deliberative  group 
made  up  of  men  and  women  who  were  so  far  beyond 
the  common  life  of  the  community  as  to  make  them 
unsympathetic  with  that  common  life  and  liable  to  pro- 
duce a  program  largely  irrelevant  to  that  common  life. 

Every  community  needs  the  help  of  the  best  eco- 
nomic thinking  it  can  secure,  though  at  the  present 
time  few  communitie's  are  prepared  to  admit  the  valid- 
ity of  economic  thinking.  Likewise,  every  community 
needs  the  help  of  the  best  political  science  it  can  find, 
the  best  sociological  information  and  theory,  and  the 
best  help  procurable  in  the  interpretation  of  common 
behavior, — that  is,  psychology.  Beyond  this,  this  com- 
munity deliberative  council  should  include  a  student  of 
American  history;  a  student  of  the  local  community's 
institutions  and  organizations;  a  business  man  who 
can  bring  to  the  group  concrete  illustrations  of  the  way 
in  which  business  men  think;  a  leader  of  the  moral  and 
religious  forces  of  the  community;  a  school  man,  who 
can  illustrate  the  way  in  which  teachers  think;  a  work- 
ing man  who  can  bring  the  particular  point  of  view  of 
workers;  a  representative  of  the  zesthetic  interests  of 
the  community;  one  who  i's  interested  in  amusements 
and  recreation;  an  expert  in  health  and  sanitation;  a 
representative  of  the  complicated  problems  confront- 
ing the  women  of  the  community;  a  representative  of 
the  young  women  of  the  community,  and  a  represen- 
tative of  the  young  men;  and  the  like. 

This  is  suggestive,  only,  of  the  vital  functions  and 


148  Community  Organization 

interests  which  are  intimate  in  the  Hfe  of  the  com- 
munity, and  which  need  to  find  expression  in  any 
deliberation  of  the  community.  These  men  and  women 
should  be  chosen  first  of  all  because  they  are  students. 
Their  duty  will  not  be  to  put  programs  into  action; 
their  duty  will  be  to  think  out  along  the  lines  of  com- 
munity development  and  to  work  out  through  the  long 
future  of  democracy  the  advancing  programs  which 
the  community  will  do  well  to  experiment  with.  It 
will  not  be  their  task  to  set  up  dogmatic  and  ultimate 
programs  for  the  community.  Democracy  does  not 
healthily  advance  that*  way.  It  will  be  their  duty  to 
develop  hypothetic  programs  for  the*  purpose  of  com- 
munity acceptance  or  rejection.  And  they  should  be 
prepared  to  stand  many  rejections  of  their  programs 
by  the  community. 

The  first  task  of  this  group  will  be  to  educate  itself 
as  to  its  purpose  and  as  to  its  methods  of  procedure. 
Its  second  task  will  be  to  stimulate  the  development  of 
an  adequate  supply  of  successors,  probably  young  men 
and  women  who  will  want  to  share  in  the  deliberative 
life  of  t^c  community,  and  who  will  therefore  want 
to  know.  Of  course,  any  community  needs  more  than 
knowledge.  But  that  is  no  excuse  for  saying  that  it 
does  not  need  knowledge. 

More  than  this,  setting  up  the  possibility  ci  having 
a  definite  share  in  the  thinking  of  the  community  would 
go  a  long  way  toward  stimulating  some  of  our  boys 
and  girls  to  have  a  real  interest  in  intellectual  things 


Developing  Community  Deliberation         149 

and  would  also  help  to  give  the  schools  some  real 
reason  for  existence. 

These  men  and  women  should  not  be  selected 
because  they  represent  organizations  or  interests.  They 
should  not  represent, — they  should  know;  they  should 
not  be  propagandists  or  partisans,  they  should  be,  just 
as  far  as  possible,  scientists  in  their  fields.  They  should 
be  helped  to  come  together  in  the  name  of  the  com- 
munity, for  the  service  of  the  community.  But  the 
community  is  a  very  complex  matter  in  these  days, 
and  there  will  be  much  conflict  of  opinion.  This  is, 
in  itself,  the  healthiest  of  all  possible  developments, 
provided  that  conflict  is  sincere,  disinterested,  and 
savored  of  a  little  humor.  Perhaps  the  community 
leader  must  be  able  to  furnish  this  savor.  This  group 
should  meet  regularly  for  the  consideration  of  policies, 
problems,  projects.  Its  free  discussion  should  throw 
the  light  of  all  community  interests  upon  all  matters, 
and  its  decisions  should  represent  not  politics  and 
intrigue  but  deliberation  and  sincere  belief.  Its  results 
should  be  put  freely  at  the  service  of  the  community. 

This  will  be  an  extraordinary  experiment  in 
democracy.  In  small  communities  whose  interests  are 
still  fairly  homogeneous,  one  such  group  working 
through  a  period  of  years,  taking  seriously  its 
responsibilities  in  bringing  to  the  community  the  best 
results  of  world  knowledge  and  broadly  reconstructive 
social  theory,  with  intelligent  suggestion  as  to  local 
applications,   would   serve   the  community  need.     In 


150  Community  Organisation 

larger  communities  made  up  of  distinctive  neighbor- 
hoods, any  number  of  such  groups  might  be  developed. 
The  main  difficulty  under  our  American  folkways 
would  lie  in  escaping  from  two  charges  that  might  be 
brought  against  the  group.  On  the  one  hand,  it  might 
be  charged  with  an  effort  to  dominate  the  community. 
If  any  such  charge  were  justified  the  functions  of  the 
group  would  be  lost,  for  the  only  domination  that  can 
be  justified  in  any  democratic  community  is  that  of  the 
reasonableness  of  the  program  proposed.  But  of  course 
no  program  is  going  to  be  adopted  merely  because 
it  is  reasonable.  On  the  other  hand,  it  might  be 
charged  with  being  primarily  or  purely  doctrinaire, 
and  therefore  useless.  Here  again  the  good  sense  of 
the  group  will  save  it  from  being  so  irrelevant  and 
remote  in  its  deliberations  and  proposals  as  to  warrant 
the  proper  suspicion  of  the  common  man.  The  pro- 
gram proposed  must  be  at  one  and  the  same  time 
rationally  developed  out  of  the  actual  life  of  the  com- 
munity, and  thrown  into  the  common  currents  of  dis- 
cussion for  acceptance  or  rejection  by  the  community. 
But  it  must  not  fear  to  be  based  on  substantial  theory. 
The  community  must  be  educated  to  believe  in  theory. 
The  so-called  "practical  man"  is  a  man  who  is  merely 
boasting  of  his  ignorance  of  the  world's  intelligence. 
This  experiment  will  involve  the  working  out  of  the 
technique  of  deliberation  in  such  a  group.  Democratic 
deliberation  is  largely  non-existent.  In  the  main  com- 
mittees, groups,  and  meetings  have  been  exploited  by 


Developing  Community  Deliberation         151 

chairmen  and  leaders  of  an  executive  type  of  mind 
rather  than  of  a  dehberative  type.  Doubtless,  as  we 
shall  see  in  a  later  chapter,  democracy  has  great  need 
of  men  of  an  executive  type  of  mind.  But  in  this  dis- 
cussion we  are  not  concerned  with  that  type;  we  should 
rather  prefer  that  they  stay  out  of  these  deliberative 
groups.  We  want  men  and  women  who  can  really 
deliberate.  The  man  who  would  control  a  group  for 
the  purposes  of  propaganda,  or  for  the  sake  of  putting 
over  his  own  private  opinion,  or  for  some  more  or  less 
dubious  group  purpose,  is  not  the  type  of  man  wanted 
in  this  deliberative  council. 

The  technique  of  a  democratic  deliberation  will  in- 
volve certain  essential  elements  which  are  not  uni- 
versally characteristic  of  Americans,  and  which  have 
not  been  as  a  rule  esteemed  as  the  desirable  qualities 
in  community  leadership.  Here  again,  however,  em- 
phasis must  be  placed  upon  the  fact  that  this  particular 
type  of  leadership  is  not  concerned  with  getting  things 
done  but  with  planning  what  is  to  be  done, — with  the 
working  out  of  a  broad  community  program  which, 
once  it  is  accepted  by  the  community,  can  be  turned 
over  to  the  executive  type  of  leader  for  enactment  into 
the  life  of  the  community. 

The  elements  in  this  type  of  leadership  may  be 
briefly  set  forth  as  follows: 

1.  Patience — and  the  good  humor  that  keeps 
patience  from  becoming  a  sullen  pessimism. 


152  Community  Organisation 

2.  Ability  to  listen  to  others.  Mostly  we  enjoy 
listening  to  ourselves. 

3.  Determination  to  help  others  express  themselves 
even  when  they  have  nothing  to  say.  Every 
member  of  the  democracy  must  have  something 
to  say. 

4.  Definite  effort  to  understand  others.  It  is  far 
more  easy  to  misunderstand. 

5.  An  effort  to  appreciate  the  various  individual 
strengths  and  weaknesses  of  one's  colleagues 
and  so  to  take  account  of  extraneous  elements 
in  deliberation. 

6.  A  search  for  a  more  inclusive  common  knowl- 
edge which  shall  be  put  freely  at  the  service  of 
every  member  of  the  group  for  the  purpose  of 
securing  many  personal  interpretations  of  facts 
and  personal  statements  of  programs. 

7.  A  willingness  (perhaps  secured  only  in  the  long 
course  of  time)  to  follow  truth  for  the  sake  of 
the  community  wheresoever  it  may  lead.  This 
will  of  course  introduce  continually  the  element 
of  criticism  of  the  points  of  view  of  individual 
members  of  the  committee.  But  this  will  educate 
them,  and  compel  their  continuous  readjust- 
ment. That  is  to  say,  it  will  require  thinking. 
It  will  involve  a  co-operative  search  for  the 
good,  not  as  something  already  existing,  but 
as  something  to  be  found  step  by  step  in  the 
processes  of  experience.    That  will  mean  leav- 


Developing  Community  Deliberation         153 

ing  behind  some  old  vested  wrongs,  and  no  one 
greatly  enjoys  that  sort  of  thing.    It  may  take 
many  generations  to  educate  the  race  to  the  atti- 
tude that  it  is  better  for  our  old  institutions  to 
perish  in  the  white  light  of  truth  than  to  live 
on  in  the  moldiness  of  falsehood. 
The  magnitude  of  this  task  is  not  to  be  underesti- 
mated.   It  does  not,  however,  include  the  "making  over 
of  human  nature."    It  involves  the  thoughtful  estab- 
lishing of  the  conditions  under  which  more  desirable 
aspects  of  human  nature  will  have  a  chance  to  develop. 
Of  course  it  will  involve  eternal  vigilance  on  the  part 
of  this  democratic  thought  fulness,  but  democracy  is 
not  something  that  can  be  achieved  once   for  all, 
and  then  depended  upon  to  stand  of  itself;  democracy 
is  a  great  passion,  a  moral  hunger,  a  spiritual  ideal; 
and  its  fufeure  must  be  protected  by  the  deliberate  intel- 
ligence, the  definite  resolution,  the  quiet  passion,  and 
the  calm  will  of  all  those  heroic  souls  of  the  com- 
munity who  would  perhaps  in  other  days  have  given 
their  lives  valorously   on   some  battlefield   for   some 
glorious  cause.    The  fight  for  democracy  has  largely 
been  transferred  from  mob  battlefields  to  individual 
consciences  and  hearts. 

But  democracy  must  go  at  least  one  step  further: 
the  battle  must  become  the  task  of  the  democratic 
intellect  and  the  results  and  tools  of  science  must  be 
rescued  from  their  service  in  the  construction  of  battle- 
ships and  machinery  of  destruction,  and  made  to  serve 


154  Community  Organization 

the  great  moral  and  spiritual  longings  of  the  race.  The 
new  battle  must  be  fought  out  in  committee  rooms 
and  community  councils,  and  in  the  common  meetings 
of  men  and  women.  Deliberation  must  be  redeemed 
from  its  present  reputation.  The  task  of  democracy 
is  the  long  task  of  the  years.  The  whole  future  of 
civilization  is  at  stake. 

And  that  true  future  does  not  now  exist  anywhere. 
Customs  of  the  past  will  attempt  to  supply  it;  momen- 
tary impulses  will  offer  themselves  for  it;  but  it  must 
come  to  us  out  of  our  social  imagination  and  out  of 
the  deliberate  investigations  which  broad-minded, 
intelligent  lovers  of  democracy  will  institute  for  its 
invention.  All  that  can  save  us  from  the  slavish  tradi- 
tions of  the  past  or  the  futile  impulses  of  the  present 
is  that  trained  deliberativeness  which  has  been,  even  in 
our  democracy,  but  little  esteemed. 

It  is  at  this  point  that  democracy  faces  the  conditions 
of  its  unexplored  frontier.  Just  as  the  settlers  of 
America  left  the  security  and  ease  of  settled  com- 
munities in  Europe  for  the  uncertainties  and  the 
freedom  of  the  wilderness,  so  there  must  be 
always,  in  a  democracy,  some  who  will  leave  the 
settled  and  outworn  conditions  of  the  past  and  plunge 
into  the  insecurities  and  freedom  of  the  wilderness  of 
unsettled  questions,  in  search  of  a  new  and  larger 
world  within  which  to  realize  the  unescapable  longings 
of  their  souls.  Men  must  see  more  than  to-day  in  order 
to  see  to-day  truly.     The  wilderness  must  be  explored 


Developing  Community  Deliberation         155 

by  the  pioneer  before  rest  can  be  enjoyed, — not  by 
reason  of  fear  or  need  so  much  as  just  because  man's 
mind  cannot  rest  easily  in  any  limited  corner  of  the 
wilderness :  even  a  half  universe,  says  Carlyle,  will  not 
satisfy  the  soul  of  a  bootblack. 

Hence  our  question  comes  to  this :  Can  such  a  de- 
liberative council,  or  any  fragment  of  it,  be  organized 
in  any  community  to  consider  the  many  problems  of 
that  community,  in  accordance  with  such  a  program  as 
the  following? 

1.  Ready  to  meet  regularly  at  stated  times  for  the 
purposes  of  deliberation  and  discussion,  making 
that  time  a  part  of  the  regular  routine  of  each 
member  of  the  group  as  a  definite  personal  ob- 
ligation and  privilege  not  to  be  missed. 

2.  Keeping  their  eyes  open  in  all  the  ranges  of 
daily  experience  for  illustrative  materials,  facts, 
bearing  on  the  subject. 

3.  Always  reading  discussions  of  the  subjects  for 
the  purpose  of  securing  growing  understand- 
ing of  the  practical  aspects  of  their  task. 

4.  Ready  to  give  time  and  energy  to  the  commun- 
ity and  tO'  plan  largely,  inclusively,  to  the  end 
that  eventually  every  member  of  the  commun- 
ity, old  and  young,  shall  have  the  chance  to 
express  the  long-repressed  currents  of  life, — 
especially  that  boys  and  girls  shall  have  the 
chance  to  develop  their  instinctive  lives  through 
normal  and  healthy  expression,  to  enrich  their 


156  Community  Organisation 

emotions  through  actual  and  real  experiences, 
and  so  come  in  their  youth  to  a  life  that  is  less 
at  the  mercy  of  repressed  instincts  and  emo- 
tions, more  controlled,  more  normal  because  not 
altogether  unknown. 
Such  a  group  must  be  willing  to  do  this  modestly, 
continuously,    thoughtfully,    persistently,    and    even 
when  ridiculed  or  rejected  to  to  go  ahead  with  the 
great  task. 

Eventually,  if  democracy  is  to  secure  the  advan- 
tages of  science  in  all  its  common  living,  just  such 
groups  or  committees  will  exist  everyv^here,  helping 
to  translate  scientific  conclusions  into  terms  under- 
standable to  the  common  man  and  helping  to  interpret 
the  struggling  life  of  the  community  in  terms  that 
even  the  scientist  will  not  scorn.  It  seems  likely  that 
only  in  some  such  way  as  this  will  our  under-intelli- 
gent, over-institutionalized,  over  puritanical  social 
order  be  transformed  into  a  social  order  which  makes 
room  for  the  discoveries  of  our  evolutionary  point  of 
view — the  fundamental  instincts  of  the  race,  the  emo- 
tional undercurrents  of  all  our  intellectual  life,  the 
humanity  that  rises  out  of  our  pre-human  endowment, 
and  that  great  democratic  common  weal  that  lures  us 
on  and  that  may  be  one  with  the  spiritual  meanings  of 
the  wniverse  itself. 

Since  democracy  does  not  exist  at  present,  since  it 
is  a  great  adventure  involving  forecasting  the  future, 
it  seems  necessary  to  suppose  that  some  such  program 


Developing  Community  Deliberation         157 

as  the  foregoing  will  be  essential.  Groups  of  intelli- 
gent people  must  become  interested  in  the  problems  of 
the  community  until  they  see  how  such  simple  things 
as  inadequate  recreation,  or  inadequate  housing,  for 
example,  prevent  the  development  of  those  compre- 
hensive experiences  within  which  the  normal  life  of 
children  and  young  people  can  find  expression  and  so 
come  to  adequate  being.  And  of  course  it  can  be 
affirmed  that  democracy  will  not  be  real  as  long  as 
large  areas  of  our  personal  and  social  life  remain 
buried  under  the  debris  of  old  institutions.  The  uncov- 
ering of  the  inner  repressed  lives  of  people;  the  work- 
ing out  of  more  adequate  social  programs  on  the  basis 
of  facts  and  by  the  light  of  developing  social  theory; 
and  the  presentation  of  such  programs  to  the  commun- 
ity for  its  education,  its  acceptance  or  rejection :  these 
are  aspects  of  the  long  struggle  for  democracy  which 
are  absolutely  vital  to  the  future.  Without  delibera- 
tion in  the  light  of  the  most  complete  fund  of  fact  and 
theory,  democracy  will  be  lost  in  the  eddies  of  old  habit 
or  destroyed  in  the  rapids  of  impulse.  Deliberation  is 
as  essential  in  negotiating  the  uncertain  currents  of 
democracy's  future  as  in  constructing  safe  waterways 
for  the  commerce  of  the  world.  And  leadership  must 
recognize  the  value  of  this  community  deliberation  in 
the  development  of  community  mind.  Instead  of  con- 
tinuously seeking  to  "get  things  done"  it  must  seek 
to  develop  the  community's  own  capacity  to  do  things, 
and  especially  to  think  out  things  worth  doing. 


CHAPTER   X 


THE    INCLUSIVE    PROGRAM 


The  first  effect  of  awakening  the  deliberative  atti- 
tude is  likely  to  be  negative, — the  development  of  a 
passive  or  even  cynical  pessimism.  The  welter  of  pas- 
sion and  emotion,  of  tangled  ambition  and  aspiration, 
success  and  defeat,  vanity  and  ecstasy,  disease  and  vice 
and  crime,  comes  before  us  as  a  terrifying  phantasma- 
goria. In  the  isolation  of  the  folkway  world,  ignor- 
ant of  or  ignoring  these  more  poignant  facts  of  life, 
men  could  be  happy  at  leasi  after  a  resigned  fashion. 
But  who  can  be  happy  when  hi  3  eyes  begin  to  open 
upon  the  haggard  facts  of  life?  "In  much  wisdom  is 
much  grief;  and  he  that  increaseth  knowledge 
increaseth  sorrow." 

Historically  man  has  seemed  a  creature  of  depraved 
character:  selfish  and  prejudiced;  sensual  and  weak, 
except  for  physical  brutalities;  intemperate  and 
shackled  by  vicious  habits,  cowed  by  fears,  or  driven 
by  manias;  indolent  and  drifting  with  the  tides  of 
appetite,  save  as  iron-clad  custom  has  controlled  him 
with  taboos,  or  other  sanctions,  or  as  some  few  choice 
spirits  have  risen  above  the  mob  and  by  organizing 
autocratic   mechanisms, — chiefly   armies, — have   been 

1'8 


The  Inclusive  Program  159 

able  to  control  the  currents  of  human  impulse,  and  so 
have  saved  the  very  race  from  destruction.  We  seem 
to  be  victims  of  conditions,  force,  energies, — physical, 
psychological,  institutional, — that  are  beyond  modifi- 
cation or  control. 

Little  by  little,  however,  this  general  pessimism 
resolves  itself  into  many  specific  items.  The  world, 
outwardly  and  inwardly,  seems  beyond  the  reach  of 
intelligence;  note  such  factors  as  these: 

Physical  destruction :  by  earthquake,  storms,  floods, 
fires,  and  the  probable  demolition  of  the  planet  itself; 
famines,  plagues,  epidemics,  pestilences,  death  itself; 

Wars :  which  demand  the  destruction  of  the  best, 
and  the  defeat  of  all  progress  by  compelling  unlimited 
birth  rates,  the  "rabbit-hutch"  policy  of  maintaining 
national  strength,  the  sanctioning  of  polygamy  and  of- 
ficial illegitimacy, — since  war  can  destroy  more  rapidly 
than  all  other  calamities  combined; 

Poverty  and  pauperism,  dependency  and  invalidity, 
insanitary  housing  and  the  unspeakable  filth  through 
which  the  race  grew  up  and  which  still  exists  unno- 
ticed all  about  the  living  conditions  of  multitudes; 

Defect,  mental  and  physical :  delinquency,  vice  and 
crime,  unnatural  perversions  and  the  loathsome  dis- 
eases that  ensue,  prostitution  and  the  exploitation  of 
the  instincts  of  sex; 

Exploitation  of  the  masses  of  men,  women  and 
children,  through  heartless  private  manipulation  of  the 
wealth  of  the  community :  unemployment,  occupational 


.160  Community  Organisation 

diseases  and  accidents,  preventable  deaths,  fatigues; 
work  that  degrades  the  worker  through  long  hours; 
work  that  destroys  the  desire  and  the  capacity  to  work ; 
work  that  degrades  women  and  children;  work  that 
fails  to  feed  and  clothe  and  house  the  world,  which 
merely  produces  discouragement  and  unrest : 

Chicanery,  gambling,  "con,"  which  despises  work 
and  exists  by  shrewd  ability  to  secure  a  share  of  the 
product  of  other  men's  labors  by  the  use  of  "wits." 

Belated,  ignorant,  tyrannical  and  prejudiced  courts, 
and  other  tribunals  that  stand  in  the  way  of  justice 
and  right; 

A  citizenship  that  is  ighorant,  subject  to  catch- 
phrases,  easily  exploited  by  venal  leaderships, — or  else 
over-sophisticated,  cynical,  dishonest; 

"Public  opinion"  cleverly  organized,  cunningly 
manipulated,  at  the  mercy  of  shrewd  suggestion, 
refusing  to  consider  any  new  proposal  that  might 
release  the  community  from  its  defects :  "What  is 
good  enough  for  us  is  good  enough  for  our  children." 

Family  breakdowns  and  disintegrations;  thought- 
less marriages;  "conspiracies  of  secrecy"  about  all  sex 
matters;  incompatibilities,  disillusionments,  divorces; 
the  failures  of  responsibility;  lawless  sex  relationships; 
and  the  whole  sordid  story  of  broken  faiths,  exploited 
affection,  and  disappointed  lives; 

Superficiality  of  personality  of  masses  of  men  and 
women  because  they  grew  up  in  a  "soil  that  had  no 
depth," — frivolity,  insincerity,  hypocrisy,  sham; 


The  Inclusive  Program  161 

Illiteracy,  social  unintelligence,  unskill;  formal  ana 
irrelevant  information;  non-vocational  outlooks  of  the 
masses  of  young  people;  lack  of  interest  in  "the  job"; 
lack  of  interest  in  any  of  the  important  concerns  and 
movements  of  the  age; 

Amusements  that  do  not  amuse;  recreations  that  do 
not  recreate;  sordid,  over-competitive,  destructive 
social  life;  a  "night  life"  that  devours  the  earnings  of 
the  day  and  does  not  give  "value  received,"  but  grad- 
ually destroys;  play  that  defeats  play,  burning  out 
nerve  centers  before  their  time;  the  transformation  of 
all  that  should  be  beautiful,  recreative,  and  refreshing 
into  the  hectic,  the  feverish,  the  demoralizing,  the 
deadly; 

Ugliness  of  the  community,  of  streets  and  buildings 
and  vacant  lots;  the  intrusion  of  bill  boards;  the  sor- 
did ugliness  of  houses,  inside  and  out;  jerry  architec- 
ture, jazz  music,  adventitious  literature,  extremist  art; 
imitation  jewelry,  and  all  the  tawdry  effort  to  gloss 
over  cheapness  with  a  vain  respectability; 

A  morality  that  is  ignorant  custom  and  pretense, 
and  that  freely  sacrifices  joy,  happiness,  sincerity,  real- 
ity, nature  and  beauty  to  conventionality  and  appear- 
ances ; 

A  "religion"  that  is  hard,  irrelevant,  if  not  unintel- 
ligent dogma;  outward  conformity  to  meaningless  rit- 
uals, the  "whited  sepulchres"  of  ancient  descriptions; 
cups  "cleansed  on  the  outer  side,  but  inwardly  full 
of  extortion  and  bitterness;"  the  "devourers  of  wid- 


162  Community  Organisation 

ows'  houses  making  long  prayers  in  the  market  place," 
Some  such  pessimistic  presentation  of  the  world  as 
this  is  the  first  impression  aroused  in  the  awakened 
intelHgence  by  the  deliberative  attitude.  And  this  is 
necessary,  inevitable.  The  complacency  of  the  f  olkway 
mind  must  give  way  to  the  aroused  interest  and  sense 
of  problem  of  the  alert  mind.  There  is  no  hope  of  sal- 
vation save  in  a  recognition  of  the  fact  of  sin. 

But  a  second  effect  of  the  deliberative  attitude  has 
usually  appeared,  also;  a  sort  of  unlimited  and  over- 
weening optimism,  that  here,  at  last,  a  new  method 
has  been  found  with  which  quickly  all  the  problems  of 
the  ages  will  be  solved.  The  Greek  sophists  held  some 
such  superficial  view  as  this, — though  some  of  them 
went  so  far  as  to  suggest  that,  in  the  light  of  intelli- 
gence, no  problem  was  really  worth  solving!  In  the 
dawn  of  the  modern  period  a  somewhat  more  serious 
but  quite  as  thoroughly  optimistic  opinion  prevailed. 
Bacon  felt  that  his  "Novum  Organum"  was  that  new 
instrument  which  would  quickly  cure  all  the  ancient 
"distempers  of  learning,"  overthrow  all  the  traditional 
"idols  of  the  mind,"  and  bring  in  the  day  of  unlimited 
illumination  and  control  of  life.  "Knowledge  is 
power," — ^and  man  had  only  to  apply  himself,  dili- 
gently, to  compass  shortly  all  knowledge :  "I  have 
taken  all  knowled;.  j  to  my  province!" 

Paracelsus  is  an  excellent  illustration  of  this 
pathetic  hope.  Browning's  poem  represents  the  wild 
extravagance  of  his  first  plans,  and  the  gradual  disil- 


The  Inclusive  Program  163 

lusionment  and  eclipse  of  an  intellect  that  might  have 

contributed  much  to  the  world  had  it  been  content  to 
undertake  its  share  in  the  long  task  of  following 
"knowledge  like  a  sinking  star  beyond  the  utmost 
bound  of  human  hope."  But  the  age  dreamed  of  a 
quick  clue,  a  secret  of  the  gods,  a  philosopher's  stone, 
which  would  turn  base  metals  into  gold,  solve  all  prob- 
lems by  a  magic  touch,  and  transform  degraded  and 
vicious  human  nature  into  fitness  for  the  heavenly 
mansions  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye.  And  the  age 
found  none  of  these;  therefore  it  turned  upon  those 
who  made  such  promises,  and  destroyed  them. 

Human  weariness  still  longs  for  such  short  cuts  to 
peace,  and  human  credulity  never  fails  to  respond  to 
the  suggestions  when  any  such  has  been  found.  Mod- 
em "get  rich  quick,"  "get  healthy  quick,"  "get  wise 
quick"  nostrums  are  the  equivalent  of  the  old  philos- 
opher's stone. 

Now  and  then,  of  course,  some  discovery  does  seem 
to  precipitate  a  whole  age  of  progress  in  a  moment, — 
but  it  is  certain  that  ages  of  study  have  gone  before. 
That  which  is  to  be  for  a  moment  can,  probably,  be 
made  in  a  moment;  but  that  which  is  to  become  per- 
manent substance  of  the  structure  of  the  world  must, 
probably,  take  time  for  its  development.  After  these 
three  hundred  years  of  scientific  effort,  we  may  admit 
that  there  is  no  such  single  cUie.  no  simple  formula,  no 
final  answer  to  the  problems  of  society  in  a  democrac- 

A  third  attitude  toward  the   deliberative  method 


164  Community  Organization 

seems  necessary,  therefore.*  The  complete  organiza- 
tion of  the  community  will  include  the  mutual  develop- 
ment and  interrelating  of  many  programs,  dealing  with 
the  many  aspects  of  our  common  life, — each  wrought 
out  in  the  knowledge  of  the  others  and  in  view  of  the 
community  as  a  whole.  This  program  will  begin 
where  the  community  actually  is,  with  all  its  failures 
and  depravities,  defeats  and  limitations,  as  set  forth 
above ;  it  will  be  brave  enough  to  call  into  use  all  attain- 
able facts,  past  and  present, — since  only  by  knowl- 
edge can  we  escape  from  fear;  it  will  take  into  account 
all  the  work  that  has  been  done  by  various  frag- 
mentary groups,  and  the  methods  of  that  work ;  it  will 
become  acquainted  with,  and  make  continuous  use  of 
all  advancing  social  sciences,  especially  of  psychology; 
it  will  examine  and  use  the  advancing  standards  of 
achievement  which  specific  departments  of  the  com- 
munity are  developing,  and  will  attempt  to  relate  and 
co-ordinate  these  specialized  standards  into  a  common 
aim  for  the  whole  community  life;  it  will  organize  all 
these  factors  into  a  working  hypothesis,  presenting 
this  hypothesis  as  a  constructive  plan  of  the  commun- 
ity's future,  for  the  challenge  of  the  community, — to 
be  criticized,  to  be  endlessly  remade,  to  be  attained 
in  the  progress  of  the  years. 

Such  an  attitude  as  this  is  true  deliberation,  is  truly 
inclusive.  It  accepts  the  future  as  just  the  field  of 
buman  exploration,  as  that  new  frontier  within  which 

♦Todd:  The  Scientific  Spirit  in  Social  Work. 


The  Inclusive  Program  165 

the  still-unrealized  hopes  and  aspirations  of  the  race 
shall  come  into  being.  It  is  not  afraid  of  the  unknown ; 
it  faces  that  unknown  as  the  pioneers  of  the  last  three 
centuries  have  faced  the  wilderness  of  forest  and 
prairie.  In  this  three  hundredth  anniversary  of  the 
landing  of  the  Pilgrims  surely  no  one  need  apologize 
for  advocating  the  value  of  facing  the  wilderness,  or 
of  life  on  the  frontiers! 

This  sort  of  deliberation  involves  the  escape  from 
both  the  outworn  habit  of  the  past  and  the  uncertain 
impulse  of  the  present  into  the  intellectual  freedom  of 
ideas  and  the  comparative  analysis  of  competing  pro- 
grams. It  involves  escape  from  "patch-work"  and 
"tinkering"  into  the  conception  of  a  program  that 
begins  with  the  community  as  a  whole  and  appraises 
every  activity,  function,  interest  and  institution  of  that 
community  in  terms  of  its  service  to  the  common  life. 
From  this  more  inclusive  standpoint,  from  this 
revised  attitude  of  mind  which  Ferguson  calls  the  "rev- 
olution absolute"*,  each  of  these  interests,  activities, 
institutions  of  the  community  becomes  a  distinct  prob- 
lem, a  challenge  to  show  cause  why  it  should  continue 
to  exist,  or  to  exist  in  just  such  fashion.  The  inclu- 
sive program  of  the  community  will  be  just  the  out- 
come of  these  critical  deliberations, — and  nothing  but 

*  The  application  of  science  to  the  arts  of  war  has  trans- 
formed warfare  from  an  activity  that  once  permitted  a  cer- 
tain "chivalry"  into  a  monstrous  organization  of  all  hideous 
engines  of  destruction.  The  only  means  of  upsetting  this  is 
by  just  as  complete  application  of  the  methods  of  science  to 
the  arts  and  institutions  of  peace. 


166  Community  Organisation 

such  deliberation  can  ever  assure  us  an  inclusive  pro- 
gram. This  is  the  long  task  of  the  democratic  cen- 
turies,— a.  challenge  to  the  faith  and  hope  and  joy  of 
every  genuine  democrat ! 

In  this  deliberate  challenge  by  the  community  of  all 
that  affects  the  happiness  and  destiny  of  the  members 
of  the  community,  doubtless  some  of  these  old  com- 
munity functions  will  be  more  or  less  ruthlessly  elimi- 
nated. This  has  happened  in  the  past.  Slavery,  that 
divinely  ordained  institution,  disappeared;  the  saloon 
is  passing  from  our  midst;  the  "divine  right  of  kings" 
has  received  its  death-blow  in  all  western  lands. 
Belated  types  of  function,  like  "Czarism"  and  "Kaiser- 
ism,"  may  cling  for  a  while,  like  "the  last  leaf  upon 
the  tree"  in  winter;  but  when  the  new  life  of  spring 
surges  through  the  tree  and  touches  its  furthest  tips, 
the  old  leaves  must  fall. 

There  is  a  crude  surgery  in  revolution,  which  has 
served  the  world  well  at  times,  though  not  always: 
"This  rage  was  right  in  the  main, — 
That  acquiescence  vain " 

But  for  the  most  part  it  is  likely  that  the  older  type 
of  revolution  has  served  its  term.  For  the  future  prog- 
ress will  be  made  by  education,  including  all  forms  of 
"case  work,"  and  by  legislation  which  will  crystalize 
the  developments  of  public  intelligence  into  the  prin- 
ciples of  law  and  common  conduct.  Yet  in  the  long 
run  the  world  will  learn  that  there  is  but  one  real 
escape  from  the  violent  revolutions  of  the  past,  and 


The  Inclusive  Program  167 

that  is  by  deliberate  acceptance  of  the  "revolution  abso- 
lute"— the  control  of  the  destinies  of  the  community 
by  intelligence,  an  intelligence  based  in  assured  facts, 
organized  by  vital  social  theory,  and  carried  out  into 
social  organization  by  trained  and  expert  leaders  who 
believe  in  the  things  they  are  doing. 

This  will  of  course  be  fatal  to  many  evils,  many 
vested  wrongs,  special  privileges,  monopolies,  and  the 
like;  but  all  such  things  must  go,  soon  or  late.  The 
only  question  is  as  to  whether  they  will  go  decently 
and  in  order  under  the  deliberate  and  calm  criticism  of 
facts  and  assured  theory,  or  whether  they  will  refuse 
to  go  and  have  to  be  thrown  out  in  the  wild  excesses 
of  violence  "when  whirlwinds  of  rebellion  sweep  the 
world."  In  the  democracy  of  the  future,  the  goods  of 
life  are  to  become  more  and  more  the  possession  of 
every  one.  Nothing  can  prevent  this.  Institutions  of 
all  sorts  can  delay  the  coming  of  that  day,  but  not 
forever ! 

It  was  stated  above  that  this  deliberative  method 
implies  a  transformation  of  social  attitude  toward 
each  and  all  of  the  distinctive  interests,  activities,  and 
institutions  of  the  community.  The  older  doctrine 
assumed  that  the  community  was  made  up  of  the  sum 
of  its  institutions.  This  doctrine  is  a  "hangover"  from 
the  extreme  individualism  of  the  i8th  century, — 
especially  from  the  "social  contract"  theory  of  Rous- 
seau. According  to  this  theory,  men  first  lived  in  an 
uninstitutionalized   individualism,   somewhat  like  the 


168  Community  Organisation 

solitary  cats  which  live  alone,  not  like  most  animals 
which  live  in  flocks  and  herds.  But  at  a  rather  uncer- 
tain time  in  human  history  population  grew  to  such 
an  extent  that  some  sort  of  social  organization  became 
necessary.  Accordingly  individuals  came  together 
and  made  a  contract  with  each  other  to  live  under  cer- 
tain conditions,  under  certain  institutions.  The  com- 
munal part  of  man  is,  therefore,  all  summed  up  under 
the  social  institutions;  what  is  not  in  institutions  is 
essentially  individualistic  and  not  to  be  comprised 
within  the  common  life.  Society  makes  its  greatest 
mistake  when  it  attempts  to  compel  the  whole  of 
human  nature  to  come  under  the  control  of  these  arti- 
ficial and  contractual  institutions. 

But  this  whole  doctrine  is  based  on  false  history  and 
more  false  psychology.  Historically  men  never  lived 
solitary  lives.  Man  is  by  his  very  nature  a  gregarious 
animal;  his  social  instincts  are  quite  as  dominant  in 
him  as  his  more  individualistic  instincts.  In  fact,  it  is 
not  at  all  unlikely  that  many  of  the  world's  grossest 
evils  come  now  from  the  inescapable  quality  of  man's 
social  instincts.  How  else  account,  for  example,  for 
that  monstrous  crowding  of  people  into  close  quarters 
in  the  city? 

Further,  the  process  of  evolution  Involves  not  add- 
ing up  a  sum  of  particulars,  but  differentiating  a  whole 
into  its  parts.  Evolution  is  from  within,  not  from  with- 
out. A  homogeneous  whole  becomes  characterized  by 
inner  differences.  These  differences  finally  become  dis- 


The  Inclusive  Program  169 

tinctive,  and  the  whole  breaks  up  into  separate  parts, 
each  of  which  may  in  turn  become  a  new  whole. 

And  not  this  historical  process  alone,  but  the  very 
nature  of  the  mind  of  man  is  to  approach  any  problem 
from  an  inclusive  point  of  view  rather  than  from  a  par- 
ticular angle.  The  mind  does  not  work  from  particu- 
lars to  the  whole,  but  from  the  whole  to  its  parts.  The 
approach  to  any  social  situation  is,  therefore,  logically 
most  easy  by  first  getting  a  view  of  the  whole  situation, 
and  then  breaking  up  that  whole  into  its  constituent 
parts. 

The  community  antedates  the  individual  and  the 
specialized  institution.  Both  are  products  of  a  com- 
munity life.  The  community  is  not  made  by  them;  they 
are  made  by  the  community.  Hence,  any  program  of 
community  reorganization  that  hopes  to  contribute  a 
real  and  lasting  progress  must  approach  the  problem 
from  the  standpoint  of  the  inclusive  community  life. 
That  is  to  say,  every  constructive  program  for  the 
reorganization  of  industry,  or  health,  or  recreation,  or 
the  like,  must  undertake  its  work  not  from  the  stand- 
point of  its  own  particular  department  of  the  com- 
munity, or  compartment  of  human  nature,  but  from 
the  standpoint  of  the  community  as  a  whole.  All  insti- 
tutions and  interests  are  functions  of  a  common 
human  nature.  That  human  nature  may  be  infinitely 
complex  and  varied;  yet  it  has  a  community  of  inter- 
est running  through  it,  and  every  function  of  com- 
munity differentiation  must  stand  or  fall  by  its  abil- 


170  Community  Organization 

ity  to  interpret,  enrich  and  serve  this  common  human 
nature.  More  than  this,  there  can  rightly  be  no  invidi- 
ous segregation  of  community  functions,  by  means 
of  which  certain  groups  or  classes  enjoy  special  serv- 
ices denied  to  other  groups  or  classes.  Every  normal 
human  being  needs  the  contact  with,  and  service  of, 
every  essential  item  of  common  good  if  he  is  to  be 
wholly  human. 

How  shall  these  novel  relationships  between  the 
specialized  functions  of  the  community  and  the  com- 
munity as  a  whole,  implied  in  this  "revolution  abso- 
lute," be  set  forth?  We  have  been  exclusive,  narrow, 
intolerant,  and  to  that  extent  un-American,  in  our 
conceptions  of  the  proper  program.  We  have  set  up 
certain  fixed  tests,  certain  shibboleths, — ^and  we  have 
declared  that  whatever  could  not  come  within  the 
bounds  of  these  tests  was  undesirable.  Non-conform- 
ist groups  have  been  persecuted, — in  spite  of  the  fact 
that  America  was  founded  by  non-conformists !  The 
Declaration  of  Independence  was  a  work  of  revolu- 
tionary non-conformists.  America  has  long  been  the 
refuge  of  the  victims  of  hide-bound  conformities. 
Democracy  must  continue  to  be  just  that,  or  perish. 

And  so  in  this  deliberate  reorganization  of  the  pro- 
gram of  our  community  life  for  the  purposes  of  democ- 
racy, all  that  is  human  must  be  taken  into  account; 
the  inner  life  of  the  community  must  get  its  expres- 
sion. It  is  not  to  be  a  program  made  "in  the  mount" 
and  handed  down  in  final  form.    It  is  to  be  the  work- 


The  Inclusive  Program  171 

ing  out  of  the  repressed  and  poignant  life  of  the  peo- 
ple who  make  up  the  community.  The  conservative, 
the  radical;  the  alien,  the  native;  the  rich,  the  poor; 
the  learned  and  the  ignorant, — all  must  come  and  bring 
their  needs,  their  hopes,  their  longings,  their  imper- 
ishable desires  to  the  building  of  this  new  structure  of 
the  common  life.  And  the  "stone  which  the  builders 
rejected"  may  once  again  in  the  world's  history  "be- 
come the  head  of  the  comer." 

This  program  will  include,  for  example,  not  merely 
an  organization  of  industry  to  make  it  more  effective 
within  itself, — ^but  such  a  reorganization  of  the  com- 
munity as*will  enable  industry  to  realize  all  its  human 
functions :  not  merely  the  production  of  goods,  but 
service  to  the  community,  the  education  of  the  children 
in  vital  ways,  the  chance  for  joy  in  one's  handiwork, 
the  sense  of  creative  expression,  the  fulfillment  of  the 
instinct  of  workmanship,  and  the  actual  realization  by 
all  men  of  that  old  religious  conception  "Laborare  est 
orare," — "To  labor  is  to  pray!"  Never  again  should 
any  community  be  able  thoughtlessly  to  make  profits 
out  of  the  losses  of  its  workers !  The  machinery  of  this 
reorganization  is  "now  in  the  making;  it  were  well  for 
community  leaders  to  make  sure  that  they  share  these 
'genuine,  hopes  of  community  and  democracy.* 

*  Veblen:  Instinct  of  Workmanship. 
Tead:  Instincts  in  Industry. 
Money:  The  Future  of  Work. 
Gantt:  Organizing  for  Work. 

Survey,  Dec.  20,  1919.    One  Way  Out.    A  Symposium. 
Cf.  British  Labor  Program. 


172  Community  Organisation 

Again,  in  the  program  of  health,  the  end  desired 
will  not  be  mere  absence  of  obvious  diseases  and  the 
development  of  individual  vitality,  but  such  a  reor- 
ganization of  the  whole  attitude  of  the  community 
toward  the  values  of  life  as  will  make  health  contag; 
ious  and  disease  a  sort  of  disgrace.  The  community 
needs  to  exhale  health  to  all  its  constituents;  and  the 
whole  structure  of  the  community — its  industries,  and 
all  its  interests — must  be  such  as  shall  be  consistent 
with  a  program  of  health.  What  is  the  use  of  health, 
or  life,  that  is  planted  amidst  filth  and  vice  and  crime? 
Why  should  the  community  be  concerned  about  the 
health  of  individuals  if  the  industry  of  the  community 
is  so  organized  as  cumulatively  to  destroy  that  health? 
Can  health. and  servile  toil  go  together?  Can  the  indi- 
vidual whose  whole  outlook  on  life  is  "gazing  on  the 
ground"  in  a  hopeless  and  unrelenting  way  be  healthy? 
Health  cannot  be  "organized"  unless  industry  is  organ- 
ized, and  every  other  vital  aspect  of  the  community 
with  it. 

Likewise,  this  program  does  not  anticipate  the  more 
complete  organization  of  "recreation"  for  the  purpose 
of  absorbing  a  few  fragments  of  off-time  now  wasted, 
— ^but  such  a  reorganization  of  the  whole  program 
of  community  living  as  will  make  leisure  time  a  gen- 
uine reality  in  the  life  of  every  man,  woman  and  child 
in  the  community — their  own  time,  free  from  any 
exaction  by  any  control  whatever,  save  their  own  good 
democratic  sense — and  in  which  normal  and  natural 


The  Inclusive  Program  173 

opportunity  is  available  to  every  one  for  play,  recrea- 
tion, social  life,  recuperation  or  regenerative  pursuits 
as  will  release  the  emotions,  healthfully^  heighten  the 
sense  of  living,  and  enhance  the  whole  tone  of  bodily, 
moral  and  spirtual  well-being.  This  cannot  be  organ- 
ized by  itself.  It  can  come  only  as  part  of  an  inclu- 
sive community  program. 

Such  a  program  will  not  imply  a  more  highly 
efficient  school  in  which  children  will  be  more  com- 
pletely institutionalized  and  crammed  with  more  dead- 
eningly  useful  information,  but  such  a  reorganization 
of  the  whole  living  of  the  community  as  will  make 
possible  the  attainment,  by  all  members  of  the  com- 
munity, old  and  young  alike,  of  a  more  adequate 
understanding  of  the  conditions  under  which  they  live 
and  work;  a  more  complete  participation  in  the  world's 
achievements  of  culture  and  joy ;  and  a  more  effective 
organization  of  active  will  by  means  of  which  the  indi- 
vidual's real  sharing  in  the  active  concerns  of  the 
world  may  be  assured.  Democracy  demands  this,  and 
educators  are  beginning  to  see  that  education  must 
move  in  this  direction.* 

Such  a  program  does  not  imply  the  occasional  sup- 
pression of  such  evils  as  prostitution,  the  sneer  of  a 
sophisticated  understanding  that  while  "good  people 
must  have  their  way  once  in  a  while,"  yet  "everyone 

♦Dewey:  Education  and  Democracy. 
Addams:  Democracy  and  Social  Ethics — Ch.  6. 
Russell:  Why  Men  Fight. 
Hart:  Democracy  in  Education. 


174  Community  Organization 

who  knows  the  world  knows  that  such  things  always 
have  been  and  always  will  be," — ^but  rather  such  an 
organization  of  the  whole  life  of  the  community,  its 
industries,  its  play,  its  civic  aspirations,  its  love  and 
its  worship,  as  to  leave  no  real  place  either  for  vice  as 
a  social  institution,  or  for  the  cultivation  of  those  mor- 
bid forms  and  perversions  of  instinct  which  saturate 
the  individual  with  viciousness. 

This  program  involves,  it  is  plain,  a  reconstitution 
of  our  attitudes  toward  all  the  interests  of  the  com- 
mon life.  When  we  consider  from  this  point  of  view 
the  long  efforts  of  women  to  achieve  the  fullness  of 
human  living,  the  wonder  grows  why  the  world  has 
been  so  stupid  so  long.  Doubtless  the  actual  working 
out  of  the  machinery  of  realization  of  all  the  values 
repressed  under  our  old  intolerances  will  take  a  long 
time;  but  the  actual  acceptance  of  the  doctrine  that 
women  are  to  have  utter  freedom  in  the  democratic 
community  need  take  no  more  than  a  moment.  And 
the  task  of  making  the  machinery  of  this  new  order 
can  then  go  on  thoughtfully,  democratically,  effec- 
tively, under  the  direction  of  those  who  believe  in  it, 
instead  of  obstructively,  under  the  direction  of  those 
who  would  prefer  to  see  it  all  fail. 

Can  there  be  any  doubt  about  the  logic  of  a  reason- 
able work  day,  that  will  leave  the  worker  still  a  human 
being  at  the  end  of  the  day,  ready  to  fulfill  all  his  func- 
tions as  a  citizen  and  with  time  enough  to  prepare  him- 
self to  enjoy  and  fulfill  his  life? 


The  Inclusive  Program  175 

If  we  could  accept  the  proposition  that  in  the  ulti- 
mate community  of  the  world  all  races  and  peoples 
must  live  together  in  some  way,  would  we  not  come 
nearer  to  the  conditions  under  which  such  a  problem 
could  really  be  solved?  There  is  nothing  democratic 
in  perpetuating  old  racial  prejudice  and  in  attempting 
to  "solve"  racial  problems  in  the  atmosphere  of  intol- 
erance and  misunderstanding. 

The  real  study  and  understanding  of  "American 
ideals"  is  not  furthered  by  the  attitudes  of  bitterness 
and  rancor  that  leading  upholders  of  "Americanism" 
exhibit.  Hysteria  and  intolerance  are  as  bad  as  indo- 
lence. America  has  withstood  a  century  of  open  dis- 
cussion of  her  ideals  and  her  problems;  it  seems 
unlikely  that  she  could  withstand  a  decade  of  espio- 
nage and  repression. 

The  deliberate  intention  to  make  human  life  physi- 
cally, mentally,  morally  and  spiritually  fit,  by  the 
control  of  the  physical  ills,  by  mental  hygiene  and  the 
segregation  of  the  defective;  by  providing  those  oppor- 
tunities for  responsibility  within  which  moral  charac- 
ter can  alone  develop;  and  by  stimulation  of  those 
great  community  idealisms  which  rouse  the  spirit  of 
man  like  an  awakened  giant, — these  are  all  parts  of 
the  program  of  community  reorganization  under  the 
control  of  democratic  deliberation. 

There  is  an  almost  infinite  variety  about  the  com- 
mon life  of  our  democracy.  This  discussion  cannot 
hope  to  include  all  details  within  its  scope.  Nor  would 


176  Community  Organisation 

it  be  warranted  in  doing  so  if  such  a  thing  were  pos- 
sible. We  are  not  here  determining  a  program ;  we  are 
simply  considering  the  general  outlines  and  elements 
that  will  go  to  the  making  of  such  a  program.  No 
such  program,  let  it  be  said  again,  can  be  made  out- 
side the  community  and  handed  in,  or  down.  Any 
externally  imposed  program  would  be  of  the  nature  of 
most  of  our  traditional  programs, — autocratic,  abso- 
lute, the  protector  of  some  sort  of  vested  wrongs.  We 
desire  no  such  program.  The  program  vve  need  for  the 
democratic  community  of  the  future  must  be  wrought 
out  of  the  very  life  of  the  community,  by  the  best 
thinking  of  that  community,  made  of  the  facts  of  that 
community,  criticised  by  reference  to  the  best  social 
theory  and  the  best  programs  of  other  communities. 
Hence,  we  may  leave  the  actual  working  out  of  the 
program  for  any  local  community  to  the  people  of  that 
community  under  the  leadership  of  such  a  commun- 
ity council  as  shall  have  learned  to  carry  on  its  work 
in  the  spirit  of  a  truly  democratic  deliberation. 

But  one  or  two  other  items  need  to  be  kept  in  mind. 
This  distinctive  conception  that  the  community  pro- 
gram of  the  democratic  future  will  imply  this  "revo- 
lution absolute"  in  our  attitudes  toward  problems  sets 
before  us  certain  inescapable  tasks.  First :  the  life  and 
interest  and  work  of  the  community  are  of  more 
importance  than  the  life  and  interest  and  work  of  any 
particular  function  or  institution  of  the  community. 
The  old  doctrine  of  "enlightend  selfishness,"  that  if 


The  Inclusive  Program  \77 

every  individual  would  stand  for  his  own  rights  to  the 
uttermost  we  should  have  an  ideal  community,  has  no 
standing  whatever  with  intelligent  students  to-day. 
Instead  of  having  an  ideal  community,  we  should  have 
an  armed  camp,  and  at  the  snapping  of  a  match  the 
world  would  be  converted  into  a  shambles.  So  also, 
the  doctrine  that  the  community  is  advanced  by  the 
unlimited  egotism  of  its  particularistic  institutions 
will  not  stand  criticism.  No  institution  can  be  trusted 
with  the  fate  of  the  whole  community.  Nothing  hut 
the  community  is  big  enough  to  determine  the  fate  of 
the  community!  And  nothing  but  an  intelligent  com- 
munity is  wise  enough  to  escape  from  the  ancient  false- 
hoods which  identified  the  good  of  the  community 
with  some  narrowly  institutional  development. 

Again,  this  re-assertion  of  the  rights  of  the  com- 
munity, as  over  against  any  particularistic  institution 
within  the  community,  involves  novel  conceptions  of 
leadership,  especially  the  conception  that  each  individ- 
ual is  to  have  some  share  in  the  joys  and  responsibili- 
ties of  leadership,  and  that  no  individual  is  to  be 
denied  the  joy  and  discipline  of  being  occasionally  a 
follower.  But  we  shall  see  more  of  this  in  a  later 
chapter. 

This  program  of  inclusive  organization  involves 
also  some  grave  dangers  and  difficulties,  as  we  shall 
see-  in  later  chapters.  But  democracy  is  looking  for  a 
larger  life.  There  can  be  no  larger  life  save  as  we 
escape  from  the  narrower  life.  Change  involves  chang- 


178  Community  Organisation 

ing  something.  Old  littlenesses  will  have  to  make  way 
for  something  bigger.  No  one  knows  just  what  the 
bigger  thing  will  be,  just  as  no  one  in  1776  knew  just 
what  would  come  of  the  Declaration  of  Independence. 
But  democracy  is  the  social  order  within  which  science 
can  find  itself  most  fully  at  home.  Dangers  do  not  dis- 
turb the  pioneer;  they  challenge  him;  they  thrill  him; 
they  discipline  him;  they  make  him :  the  pioneer  is  just 
the  man  who  does  not  run  from  them,  or  deny  their 
existence,  or  ignore  them,  but  who  faces  them,  ques- 
tions them,  tears  them  to  pieces  to  see  what  they  are 
made  of,  solves  them,  puts  them  under  his  feet,  and 
goes  on  to  the  new  job  and  the  new  day.  This  is 
what  makes  him  a  pioneer! 

Facing  the  dangers  as  they  come,  and  the  difficul- 
ties, and  the  obstacles,  the  leader  of  democracy  will 
modestly,  tolerantly,  open-mindedly  seek  to  understand 
the  times  in  which  he  lives,  the  community  in  which 
he  lives,  the  people  with  whom  he  lives, — and  in  the 
spirit  of  a  great  experiment  will  undertake  to  help  the 
community  move  on  to  the  next  stage  in  its  develop- 
ment. 


CHAPTER  XI 

FROM    DELIBERATION    TO    ACTION 

The  most  difficult  of  tasks  confronts  us  here.  We 
see  clearly  enough  what  is  to  be  done  in  the  building 
of  the  larger  democratic  community — at  least  in  its 
major  outlines.  But  is  there  not  some  danger  that  this 
desirable  program  will  never  be  translated  into  social 
conduct?  Is  it  not  necessary  now  to  build  a  great 
bridge  between  deliberation  and  action?* 

All  too  often  in  the  past  the  "idealist"  has  had  a 
sort  of  blind  faith  in  the  self-realizing  quality  of  ideals, 
has  felt  that  idealisms  have  a  magic  quality  which  will 
make  them  inevitably  prevail,  or  that  Providence  is 
on  the  side  of  ideals.  For  the  most  part  such  idealists 
have  suffered  endless  defeats  and  disillusionments ;  but 
they  seem  able  to  recover  from  every  such  defeat  and 
shortly  to  start  up  again  a  new  orgy  of  sheer  ideal- 
ism. Such  a  process  has  had  the  effect  of  making  the 
community  as  a  whole  pretty  distrustful  of  too  much 
idealism. 

For  this  reason  most  of  our  scientific  techniques 
have  fallen  into  the  control  and  service  of  pre-scien- 
tific  purposes.    Not  only  are  the  older  mechanisms  of 

*  Wallas:  The  Great  Society— Ch.  XII. 
179 


180  Community  Organisation 

effective  action  in  the  control  of  autocratic  interests, 
but  these  same  interests  are  quick  to  appreciate  and 
secure  control  of  any  new  mechanisms  that  may  be 
invented.  This  illustrates  one  of  the  lasting  conflicts  as 
to  the  nature  of  social  organization.  There  are  many 
who  advocate  the  application  of  force  to  the  control 
of  community  life,  whether  at  home  or  abroad, — such 
force  being  mainly  in  the  service  of  traditional  inter- 
ests. That  is  to  say,  alongside  of  our  sheer  idealists 
we  can  find  militarists  everywhere  who  think  that  the 
community  and  the  world  should  be  organized  pri- 
marily in  terms  of  physical  expression  and  under  the 
control  of  a  non-social  autocracy. 

Over  against  both  these  proposals  there  seems  to  be 
room  for  a  more  realistic  suggestion.  Ideals  are  not 
self-realizing;  force  is  not  merely  physical,  nor  is  even 
physical  force  forever  to  be  at  the  service  of  primi- 
tive impulse.  Ideals  need  to  be  organized  into  the  posi- 
tive programs  of  the  world,  and  force  needs  to  be 
directed  by  comprehensive  intelligence.  The  idealistic 
intention  looks  toward  a  human  world;  but  such  a 
result  will  be  realized  only  when  its  supporters  use  the 
realities  of  the  world  to  put  that  program  into  exist- 
ence. Not  merely  the  physical  forces,  such  as  are  util- 
ized in  battle,  but  the  equally  real  forces  of  commerce, 
industry,  world  finance,  the  organization  of  scientific 
inquiry,  and  the  development  of  fundamental  neigh- 
borliness  as  an  actual  program  for  community  life:  all 
these  are  essential  elements  in  that  organization  of  the 


From  Deliberation  to  Action  181 

world  by  which  ideals  are  to  be  transformed  into  the 
realities  of  social  existence. 

Of  course  this  will  make  the  upholders  of  force 
scoff,  for  they  will  say  that  forces  cannot  be  made  to 
support  an  idealistic  program.  And  it  will  make  the 
upholders  of  ideals  scoff,  because  they  will  say  that  it 
is  a  surrender  of  ideals;  that  if  ideals  have  to  rely  upon 
force  for  their  realization  they  are  not  of  much  con- 
sequence. As  a  matter  of  fact,  it  simply  means  that 
we  are  escaping  from  the  impossible  antagonisms 
between  institutions  and  ideas,  between  means  and  end, 
and  are  coming  to  see  human  life  more  realistically  as 
a  long  struggle  for  the  transformation  of  primitive 
group  conditions  into  intelligent  social  order.  It  is 
the  wholeness  of  life  that  individuals  need  and  that 
communities  need :  and  that  wholeness  involves  two 
things:  energy  to  work  out  intelligent  ideals;  and 
energy  to  make  those  ideals  real. 

Such  a  fusion  of  executive  and  deliberative  attitudes 
is  constantly  taking  place  in  the  current  of  events.  Let 
the  demand  for  the  "humanization  of  industry"  suffice 
for  illustration.  Current  deliberation  does  play  into 
action  in  the  form  of  "suggestion"*  continually. 
Multitudes  of  conservative  business  men  are  to-day 
advocating  "guild  socialism"  and  "soviet"  forms  of 
industrial  and  political  control  without  knowing  it. 
Perhaps  it  were  best  not  to  wake  them  up,  for  if  they 
advocate  these  things  long  enough  they  may  come  to 

♦Abdul   Majid:   '^*"='  Psychology  of  Leadership — Chs.   II 
and  III. 


182  Community  Organisation 

believe  in  them.  At  any  rate,  important  items  of  this 
program,  more  or  less  complete  and  effective,  are  being 
advocated  and  practiced  to-day. 

Details  of  this  indefinite  program  are  already  being 
worked  out  by  men  and  women  who  "know  how  to  get 
things  done."  Social  workers  in  increasing  numbers 
are  at  work,  and  for  the  most  part  they  can  be  counted 
upon  to  support  the  larger  developments  of  this  com- 
munity work.  But  in  addition  to  these,  who  have  a 
considerable  vocational  interest  in  the  matter,  are 
large  numbers  of  other  active  individuals, — recognized 
"executives," — who  are  not  social  workers  but  rather 
pride  themselves  upon  their  "practicality," — ^by  which 
they  largely  mean  their  ignorance  of  the  world  of 
science  and  theory.  These  men  are  usually  not  inter- 
ested in  programs  of  democratic  progress.  They  rep- 
resent a  "hang-over"  from  the  older  individualism. 
They  are  the  autocrats  of  business,  politics,  education 
and  religion.   But  they  do  get  things  done! 

The  men  of  this  "executive"  type  of  mind  are  usu- 
ally not  very  highly  intelligent  about  the  social  value 
of  what  they  are  doing,  nor  do  they  seriously  ask  why 
they  are  doing  it.  They  are,  in  large  measure,  the 
manipulators  of  traditional  mechanisms,  and  it  is  their 
business  to  see  that  the  wheels  go  round.  Not  infre- 
quently, however,  one  of  them  wakes  up  to  the  actual 
task  he  is  engaged  in  and  "muttering  angrily,  'Some- 
one has  been  making  a  fool  of  me,'  he  quits."  Usually 
these  executives  are  rather  sentimental  about  some 


From  Deliberation  to  Action  183 

aspect  of  the  task.  Perhaps  they  like  the  "game." 
They  enjoy  the  sense  of  power,  even  though  it  work 
brutality  and  hardship.  Haeckel  says  somewhere: 
"Men  are  neither  just  nor  merciful,  naturally,  but  they 
make  up  for  their  injustice  and  their  lack  of  mercy  by 
being  extraordinarily  sentimental !" 

Hence  for  the  most  part  the  man  of  executive  tem- 
per will  undertake  any  task  that  offers  him  the  sort 
of  reward  he  craves.  There  is  no  reason  to  suppose 
that  he  has  a  priori  objection  to  working  for  the 
democratic  program.  In  certain  modern  novels,  the 
old  autocratic  "boss"  does  actually  save  the  reform 
program  from  failure, — not  so  much  because  he  is 
interested  in  the  program,  as  because  the  job  offers 
him  the  chance  to  "get  into  the  game"  on  the  winning 
side. 

Hence  we  shall  do  well  to  study  the  psychology  and 
logic  of  the  situation  and  to  consider  well  whether  we 
should  not  attempt  to  enlist  the  effective  energies  of 
the  real  leaders  of  action  in  the  community  in  the  task 
of  the  more  democratic  program. 

Of  course,  accepting  the  help  of  the  impersonal 
effectiveness  of  the  active  man  offends  our  moral  scru- 
ples; often  we  would  rather  see  our  ideals  fail  than  to 
have  them  succeed  in  any  such  realistic  fashion  as  this. 
But  we  are  dealing  with  the  world  of  social  realities. 
We  are  trying  to  get  an  inclusive  democratic  program 
into  the  actual  currents  of  the  life  of  the  community. 
Such  a  program  has  a  large  place,  a  large  need,  for 


184  Community  Organization 

technique  and  execution  of  details.  The  real  forces 
and  energies, — the  actual  effective  agencies  of  the 
community, — must  be  organized  into  the  task.  As 
long  as  idealists  are  content  to  dream  their  beautiful 
dreams  of  "an  inclusive  program," — and  to  let  the 
executive  type  of  man  do  the  things  dictated  by  auto- 
cratic tradition,  the  ideals  will  remain  in  the  realm  of 
dreams, — a  "gleam  on  a  far  horizon."  They  will  come 
down  out  of  the  heaven  of  dreams  to  dwell  among  men 
in  the  realities  of  social  organization  when  they  become 
the  program  of  those  forces  and  energies  of  the 
community  that  "can  put  things  over."  This  however 
does  not  mean  merely  business  men  and  "executives." 

But  how  to  secure  such  co-operation!  All  too  fre- 
quently deliberative  men  scorn  the  active  individual  as 
being  ignorant  and  muddle-headed,  while  the  executive 
type  belittles  the  thinker  as  an  "impractical  theorist." 
What  means  of  communication  between  these  extremes 
can  be  found?  At  present  this  is  accomplished,  inso- 
far as  it  occurs  at  all,  chiefly  through  the  medium  of 
persons  who  do  not  belong  to  either  of  these  marked 
types.  Under  present  conditions  the  deliberative  group 
in  any  community  is  necessarily  small;  and  the  execu- 
tive type  is  represented  by  only  a  few. 

Traditional  types  of  education  which  discount  indi- 
viduality in  favor  of  conformity,  and  the  lack  of  oppor- 
tunity for  participation  in  community  affairs,  combined 
with  hereditary  factors,  make  it  inevitable  that  large 
numbers  of  the  community  shall  be  found  in  neither  of 


From  Deliberation  to  Action  185 

these  groups.  Many  of  these  are  ignorant  and  indolent. 
But  others,  perhaps  in  growing  numbers,  occupy  what 
may  be  called  a  "mediating"  position.  They  know  the 
results  of  deliberation,  and  they  are  in  touch  with  men 
of  action ;  they  understand  something  of  the  vocabulary 
of  each,  and  act,  often  imperfectly  it  is  true,  in  the  office 
of  interpreter.  And  in  this  office  they  fill  an  important 
function  in  carrying  forward  a  community  program. 

But  we  need  to  go  still  deeper  into  the  matter.  In 
the  exchange  of  ideas,  in  the  play  of  effective  motives, 
in  the  rounding  out  of  individual  viewpoints,  argument 
is  not  the  chief  factor.  Our  communities  are  largely 
controlled  by  elements  of  suggestion  that  lie  far  below 
the  surface  of  the  "intellectual." 

We  are  accustomed,  for  example,  to  the  conventional 
fallacy  that  our  American  institutions  were  established 
according  to  an  ultimate  pattern,  and  that  change,  or 
even  the  suggestion  of  a  change,  is  a  sort  of  treason. 
We  have  then  a  very  different  basis  for  our  loyalty  to 
these  institutions  when  we  admit  the  fact  that  the  spirit 
of  American  institutions  has  from  the  beginning  been 
originally  distinctively  experimental.  The  period  from 
1776  to  1789  was  a  period  of  extreme  uncertainty, — 
when  men  literally  did  not  know  where  they  were 
going,  and  when  many  sorts  of  hypothesis  as  to  the 
future  were  presented  and  discussed.  The  Constitution 
itself  is  a  series  of  compromises;  and  shortly  after  its 
adoption  ten  amendments  were  added  to  it.  In  the  cen- 
tury and  a  quarter  since  few  changes  have  come  by 


186  Cemmunity  Organisation 

amendment;  but  profound  changes  have  been  produced 
by  judicial  interpretation. 

Again,  we  are  subjected  to  a  type  of  subtle  sugges- 
tion in  the  old  "hang-over"  of  autocracy  which  still 
invades  our  democratic  independence :  we  submit  to  the 
domination  of  all  sorts  of  "vested  controls," — in  busi- 
ness, morality,  education,  social  groupings,  politics,  and 
religion.  We  are  more  or  less  content  to  take  the  "leg- 
ends" that  are  paraded  by  "newspapers"  as  reports  of 
facts,  and  to  act  upon  them  without  the  inhibition  of 
intelligent  questioning. 

In  place  of  these  old  customary  attitudes  of  subordi- 
nation, suppression  and  repression,  we  must  establish 
genuinely  democratic  attitudes  of  political  and  indus- 
trial independence  and  responsibility  for  all  normal 
human  beings.  This  will  mean,  of  course,  new  lines  of 
habit  in  the  common  life  and  the  life  of  individuals,  new 
lines  of  suggestion  and  of  constructive  energy  gradually 
permeating  not  only  the  conscious,  but  the  implicit  life 
of  the  community.  Great  areas  of  physical,  intellectual, 
moral,  and  spiritual  energies,  now  dormant,  or  wasted 
in  non-social  or  even  anti-social  activities,  must  be 
released  into  the  common  life, — into  its  thinking,  its 
appraisements  and  judgments,  and  into  the  determina- 
tion of  its  social  program.  And  the  present  autocratic 
arbiters  of  what  is  "correct," — in  social  forms,  political 
movements,  intellectual  fashions,  moral  standards,  and 
the  like, — must  learn  to  accept  these  new  energies, 
ideals  and  aims,  and  to  share  in  making  the  community 


From  Deliberation  to  Action  187 

over  so  as  to  include  these  democratic  values  so  long 
denied  legitimate  place.  This  will  involve  the  complete 
acceptance  of  the  doctrines  of  the  Constitution,  that 
the  safety  of  democracy  is  assured  only  when  discus- 
sion is  absolutely  free,  when  peaceful  assemblage  is 
utterly  unhindered,  and  when  the  community  has  full 
access  to  all  available  facts  in  any  controversy  so  that 
citizens  can  make  up  their  minds  with  assurance  and 
to  some  purpose. 

Another  fundamental  attitude  in  determining  our 
action  is  the  doctrine  of  "the  economic  interpretation  of 
human  conduct,"  which  insists  that  practically  all  our 
actions  are  determined  by  economic  considerations :  we 
act  in  every  instance  in  such  a  way  as  to  protect  and  fur- 
ther our  economic  welfare.  Property  is  the  main  ele- 
ment in  control  of  conduct. 

Now  even  though  we  should  refuse  to  accept  this  doc- 
trine in  all  its  baldness,  we  must  admit  that  it  has  some 
large  elements  of  reality  in  it.  "Money  talks!"  Prop- 
erty wields  an  influence  in  the  commimity  far  out  of 
proportion  to  its  intrinsic  significance  for  human  wel- 
fare; for  we  have  accepted  an  insidious  doctrine  that 
economic  welfare  is  the  most  important  phase  of  life, 
that  a  "job"  is  the  one  test  of  success,  and  that  a  gilded 
fool  is  a  more  estimable  personage  than  a  poor  wise 
man.  Hence, — "money  talks !"  In  the  long  run,  there- 
fore, property  is  likely  to  be  found  on  the  side  of  any 
program  that  protects  the  "rights  of  property"  and 
against  any  program  that  threatens  those  "rights."  The 


188  Community  Organization 

more  inclusive  program  of  democracy  and  community 
must  adjust  itself  to  this  fact.  It  must  either  "make 
peace"  with  "property  rights," — and  so  win  the  sup- 
port of  property;  or  else  it  must  find  some  more 
effective  social  energy  with  which  to  oppose  the 
undoubted  strength  of  property  in  its  struggle  to  be 
accepted  by  the  community. 

Such  an  effective  social  energy  is  perhaps  the  "guild" 
or  "labor  union,"  Here  is  energy  and  to  spare,  with 
social  programs  and  enthusiasm  imlimited.  And  for  a 
century  this  social  energy  has  been  gathering  until 
to-day  all  over  the  world  it  stands  largely  competent  to 
meet  the  old  "rights  of  property"  without  flinching. 

But  the  doubt  intrudes  as  to  whether  the  "guild"  can 
escape  from  its  own  fragmentariness.  Property  rights 
are  real  and  very  essential  in  a  limited  way.  They  are 
disastrous  only  when  they  set  a  part  of  human  good  in 
the  place  of  a  more  complete  human  good.  Can  the 
"labor  imion"  escape  the  same  difficulty?  The  goods 
which  the  unions  support  are  essential;  and  while  less 
concrete  and  obvious  are  more  humane  and  social  than 
the  goods  subsumed  under  "property  rights."  But  can 
the  labor  union  escape  from  its  own  particularism  of 
situation  within  the  common  life,  break  through  its 
own  peculiar  economic  motivations,  and  organize  its 
program  from  the  standpoint  of  the  community-as-a- 
whole,  and  so  fulfill  the  democratic  demand  for  a 
program  that  shall  approach  life  organically? 


From  Deliberation  to  Action  189 

Or  will  it  too,  like  Property,  be  content  with  the  iter- 
ation of  a  partial  program  which  it  seeks  to  identify 
with  the  common  good,  or  at  least  to  make  the  sine  qua 
non  of  the  ultimate  community  good  ?  It  is  this  uncer- 
tainty that  keeps  multitudes  who  have  lost  all  respect 
for  the  old  "rights  of  property"  from  throwing  in  all 
their  fortunes  with  the  labor  movement.  Will  that 
movement  betray  them  ultimately  just  as"  the  doctrine 
of  enlightened  selfishness  and  the  supreme  right  of 
property  has  betrayed  the  world  ? 

Can  the  state  be  so  captured  by  the  friends  of  the 
new  program  that  the  gulf  between  deliberation  and 
action  can  be  cleared  and  the  new  program  begin  to 
function  immediately  ?  There  are  those  who  insist  that 
loyalty  to  the  "state"  and  loyalty  to  "property"  are 
parts  of  the  same  program,  if,  indeed,  they  are  not 
identical.  Hence  multitudes  have  lost  confidence  in  the 
"state"  as  the  hope  of  democracy.  And  even  those  who 
have  not  lost  this  confidence  are  well  aware  that  the 
"state"  must  be  "captured"  by  the  forces  that  really 
believe  in  democracy  before  it  can  be  made  the  instru- 
ment of  the  larger  community  program.  When  the 
mayor  of  Cincinnati  denounced  the  "Social  Unit"  as 
subversive  of  government,  he  meant  simply  that  new 
civic  energies  and  enthusiasms  were  being  released 
which  questioned  the  indolence  of  government, — as 
new  wine  questions  old  bottles, — and  he  was  afraid. 
But  if  the  government  were  controlled  by  friends  of 


190  Community  Organisation 

democracy  these  newly  released  energies  would  be  wel- 
comed into  the  civic  life,  and  the  drab  monotony  of 
conventional  politics  would  be  brightened  up  a  bit. 

In  the  long  run  then  we  come  back  to  the  one  hope 
of  the  community,  the  one  imperishable  hope — the  com- 
munity itself.  And  now  we  can  see  that  we  need  more 
than  a  release  of  the  deliberative  energies  of  the  com- 
munity; we  need  as  well  the  release  of  the  energies  of 
action.  We  fail  to  get  our  program  into  the  social  life 
because  the  race's  capacity  to  act  has  been  so  largely 
lost.*  Democracy  and  the  builder  of  community  must 
learn  how  fundamentally  the  autocracy  of  the  past  and 
even  the  imperfect  democracy  of  the  present  have 
denied  to  men  the  chance  to  act  at  all.  Children  are  nat- 
urally active;  they  are  bundles  of  impulse  and  instinct, 
experimental,  scientific,  democratic.  But  they  have 
always  been  early  suppressed.  Passivity  of  conduct  has 
always  been  a  virtue  in  children.  Primitively  the  adult 
group  was  jealous  of  the  energies  of  childhood  and  used 
all  the  coercive  energies  of  the  group  to  bring  child- 
hood under  and  make  it  submissive.! 

This  has  been  one  of  the  chief  functions  of  our 
schools.  It  is  true  that  the  future  of  democracy  does 
depend  upon  the  education  of  the  new  generation  to  a 
truly  democratic  outlook  on  life.  This  will  include  the 
development  in  all  children,  in  variable  and  natural 
degrees,  of  initiative,  independence,  appreciative  under- 

*  Marot,  H.:  The  Creative  Impulse  in  Industry, 
t  Parsons:  Social  Freedom. 


From  Deliberation  to  Action  191 

standing,  critical  ability,  skill  in  vocation,  discipline  and 
self-control  and  the  sense  of  responsibility.  This  does 
wait  upon  the  schools, — and  the  schools  cannot  do  this 
sort  of  work  now  because  they  are  still  too  largely  con- 
trolled and  manned  by  elements  that  do  not  know  what 
democracy  is,  hence  are  distrustful  of  all  those  elements 
of  genuine  democracy  which  impinge  in  any  critical 
way  upon  the  existent  order.  If  we  wait  for  the  new 
generation  to  save  the  world  we  shall  find,  when  that 
generation  arrives,  that  while  they  may  exhibit  some 
real  increment  of  democratic  desire  and  capacity,  the 
actual  gain  will  have  been  dishearteningly  small.  The 
present  must  undertake  its  proper  share  in  the  protec- 
tion of  democracy,  in  order  that  the  next  generation 
may  really  be  assured  that  the  world  moves  forward. 
We  cannot  put  off  the  task  upon  the  next  generation 
Historical  accidents  have  tended  to  exalt  knowledge, 
obedience,  and  conformity,  and  to  undervaluate  activ- 
ity. Our  religion  has  come  to  us  out  of  a  land  where 
indolence  was  bliss  and  where  work  was  so  disagree- 
able that  it  was  conceived  of  as  having  been  an  extra- 
ordinary punishment  invented  by  the  Creator  for  the 
purpose  of  disciplining  sinful  man.  Our  intellectual  tra- 
ditions have  come  to  us  out  of  other  lands  where  invid- 
ious distinctions  between  slaves  and  free  men  made 
work  disgraceful  and  deliberation  the  only  honorable 
thing.  Democracy  must  escape  from  both  these  invid- 
ious attitudes !  Religion  and  deliberation  alike  must  be 
redeemed  in  order  that  the  more  complete  human  per- 


192  Community  Organisation 

sonality  may  find  welcome  in  a  democratic  social  order. 

The  old  creative  impulses  once  prized  in  hand  work 
but  useless  in  a  factory  must  find  room  once  more  in 
industry.  The  deep-lying  civic  impulses  and  loyalties 
denied  expression  in  active  form  under  autocratic  gov- 
ernments must  be  given  large  scope  in  the  democratic 
community.  The  fundamental  social  impulses  fright- 
ened into  quiescence  under  espionage  systems  must  be 
given  full  chance  to  express  themselves  in  the  congenial 
fellowship  of  unrestricted  democratic  intercourse.  Rec- 
reational impulses  that  were  compelled  to  find  outlets 
in  furtive  ways  imder  puritanical  repression  must  be 
given  opportunity  to  fill  the  whole  community  with  a 
new  sense  of  freedom  and  joy,  and  release  of  emotion. 
Ethical  impulses  conventionalized  and  dehumanized 
under  repressive  social  conditions  must  have  a  chance  to 
express  themselves  in  all  the  ranges  of  generous  action; 
and  the  old  primitive  religious  impulses  which  bound 
the  whole  community  together  in  a  common  fellowship, 
but  which  have  been  broken  into  fragments  in  the  bick- 
ering sectarianisms  of  the  modern  world,  must  have  a 
chance  once  more  to  express  themselves  in  a  real  serv- 
ice to  the  ideals  of  community  and  a  true  spiritual 
fellowship.  Such  release  of  the  deeper  impulsive  ele- 
ments of  human  nature  will  provide  eventually  the 
active  energies  necessary  to  the  carrying  out  of  any 
social  program  which  deliberation  may  devise. 

Out  of  this  larger  release  of  active  energy  in  the  com- 
munity will  appear  an  abundant  supply  of  those  execu- 


From  Deliberation  to  Action  193 

tive  types  of  men  who  will  at  the  same  time  be  trained 
to  a  fundamental  sympathy  with  the  deliberative  pro- 
grams of  the  community  and  who  will  be  efficient  in 
leading  the  community  from  the  mere  deliberation 
about  its  future  to  the  actual  realization  of  that  future 
in  social  conduct,  in  effective  social  action,  and  in 
reorganized  institutions. 


CHAPTER  XII 

KEEPING  THE  PROGRAM  HUMAN 

No  merely  negative  program  can  satisfy.  Warnings 
and  punishments  were  too  obvious  in  tiie  old  social  and 
moral  programs;  the  democratic  ideal  of  to-day  is  not 
expressed  in  warnings  against  certain  obvious  evils.  Its 
true  genius  is  found  in  the  adventure  toward  the 
unrealized  good.  Democracy  conceives  of  humanity 
as  on  a  long  trail,  and  the  true  democrat  is  he  who  can 
hopefully  say  "I  don't  know  fully  where  this  trail 
leads,  but  it's  fine  climbing!" 

We  have  already  seen  how  all  organized  programs 
tend  to  close  in  on  life,  to  suppress,  repress  and  destroy 
the  natural  spontaneities.  Our  inherited  puritanism  has 
been  particularly  persistent  in  emphasizing  this  ten- 
dency. The  famous  "blue  laws"  of  New  England  illus- 
trate the  capacity  of  the  puritan  to  "take  all  the  joy  out 
of  life."* 

This  extreme  denial  of  human  joy  is  rooted  deep  in 
certain  old  religious  attitudes  which  date  from  that 
primitive  period  when  the  larger  part  of  the  life  of 
individuals  and  groups  was  devoted  to  ceremonials  of 
cleansing  and  purification  for  the  purpose  of  placating 

*Cf.  Hawthorne's  "Maypole  of  Merrymount." 
10" 


Keeping  the  Program  Human  195 

c^iigry  deities.*  This  experience  was  intensified  in  the 
development  of  monastic  practices  in  the  Middle  Ages, 
when  men  and  women  spent  their  lives  in  gloomy 
efforts  to  defeat  all  the  native  instincts  in  the  hope  of 
winning  a  brighter  crown.f 

On  the  educational  side  the  same  gloomy  atmosphere 
has  prevailed  for  ages.  The  schoolroom  seems  to  be  a 
sort  of  natural  antithesis  to  the  vital  life  of  childhood. 
Mr.  Dooley,  the  American  philosopher,  says  that  our 
American  educational  philosophy  is  to  this  effect :  "It's 
no  great  matter  what  it  is  you  study,  just  so  you  don't 
like  it!"  Which  is,  after  all,  simply  a  free  paraphrase 
of  Locke's  educational  philosophy. $  The  current  cyni- 
cism of  the  world  with  reference  to  education  may  be 
illustrated  also  by  the  somewhat  flippant  remark  of  the 
newspaper  paragrapher :  "The  boy  who  likes  to  go  to 
school  ought  to  be  investigated." 

With  the  industrial  revolution  and  the  passing  of  the 
era  of  handiwork  there  has  been  a  gradual  elimination 
of  the  joy  of  the  individual  worker  in  his  work.  The 
development  of  standardized  products  has  substituted 
more  and  more  mechanical  processes  for  individual 
play  of  feeling  and  instinct;  and  in  more  recent  times 
the  development  of  exact  statistical  and  quantitative 
accounting  has  tended  not  only  to  the  complete  elimi- 
nation of  the  creative  element  but  even  to  the  rejection 
of  all  facts  that  will  not  admit  of  statement  in  statisti- 

*  Gilbert  Murray:  Four  Stages  in  Greek  Religion,  Lecture  I. 
t  James:  Varieties  of  Religious  Experience, 
i  Cf.  Dickens's  "Hard  Times." 


196  Community  Organisation 

cal  form.*  The  development  of  modem  scientific  man- 
agement of  industry,  which  has  as  its  ideal  the  stating 
of  the  worker  in  terms  of  work-units  per  hour,  tends  to 
destroy  the  humanity  of  the  worker, — ^an  end  con- 
sidered indispensable  by  the  management  but  rapidly 
becoming  insupportable  to  the  worker  himself,  and  has 
set  the  American  Federation  of  Labor  squarely  against 
the  whole  movement  in  a  way  that  angers  and  amazes 
those  employers  whose  sole  economic  interest  is  in  units 
of  production  so  standardized  as  to  increase  output  at 
the  minimum  cost. 

So,  through  all  the  interests  and  activities  of  our  cus- 
tomary social  life,  this  ignoring  of  the  normal  human 
desire  for  beauty  and  joy  goes  on  at  the  expense  of 
social  welfare  in  the  long  run,  since  it  denies  the  pos- 
sibility of  the  emergence  of  a  complete  humanity  in  the 
organization  of  community  life.  As  a  compensation  for 
this,  society  has  for  ages  winked  at  the  methods  of 
exploiting  the  suppressed  hungers.  The  saloon  was 
protected  for  decades  by  being  called  "The  Poor  Man's 
Club."  The  brothel  was  accepted  because  it  was  sup- 
posed to  "protect  the  home."  Even  the  disreputable 
dance  hall  is  held  more  desirable  than  a  supervised 
municipal  dance  hall  by  conventional  moralists  and 
religionists  because  they  can  keep  a  few  of  their  own 
"circle"  at  least  away  from  the  "wickedness  of  the 
world"  as  it  flaunts  itself  in  the  former. 

♦Veblen:  Instinct  of  Workmanship,  p.  245. 


Keeping  the  Program  Human  197 

The  result  of  all  this  has  been  in  large  measure  an 
actual  dislocation  of  the  world's  ideals  of  human  satis- 
faction. This  was  definitely  expressed  by  Carlyle  in 
his  famous  statement,  "Man  can  afford  to  give  up 
happiness,  if  thereby  he  can  achieve  blessedness." 

It  is  difficult  to  know  just  what  such  a  change  of 
ideal  means.  It  is  possible  that  the  term  "happiness" 
as  used  by  Carlyle  here  has  primary  reference  to  all 
those  genuinely  human  satisfactions  which  free  men 
should  get  out  of  their  work,  and  play,  and  love,  and 
worship,  which  large  numbers  of  men  and  women 
released  from  economic  or  personal  subordination,  do 
actually  achieve  in  life;  but  which  were  completely 
denied  under  mediaeval  social  organizations  to  the  rank 
and  file  of  men  and  women,  and  which  are  still  held 
to  be  not  essential  to  the  masses  of  men.  This  doctrine 
seems  to  give  unquestioning  religious  sanction  to  the 
perpetuation  of  economic  and  social  injustices  for 
which  the  only  excuse  can  be  that  economic  overlords 
have  decreed  that  it  shall  be  so,  and  we  are  too  indolent 
to  will  it  otherwise.  Hence  we  accept  and  feed  our 
hungry  souls  upon  ultimate  "blessings"  instead  of 
genuine  present  satisfactions. 

We  have  noted,  then,  that  all  intellectual  programs 
tend  to  become  artificial  and  repressive,  with  the 
inevitable  result  that  they  defeat  the  life  they  were 
intended  to  serve.  So  programs  of  action  frequently 
lead  into  blind  alleys  and  become  intolerant.  Professor 
Santayana  has  pointed  out  that  action  may  become 


198  Community  Organisation 

doubly  active  when  it  has  lost  its  direction.  It  tends 
to  make  up  in  energy  what  it  has  lost  of  vision.  So, 
from  the  standpoint  both  of  organized  deliberation  and 
of  effective  action,  the  vital  creative  reality  of  the 
future  community  may  be  menaced.  How  then  shall 
any  existent  or  proposed  program  be  properly  tested? 

It  has  already  been  intimated  that  human  happiness 
will  be  involved  in  this  test.  No  program  either  of 
deliberation  or  of  action  can  long  be  justified  which 
either  deliberately  or  thoughtlessly  ignores  the  hap- 
piness of  the  individual  or  the  community,  or  that 
tends  in  any  real  measure  to  obstruct  that  happiness. 
Moreover,  a  negative  attitude  is  not  sufficient.  Both 
deliberation  and  action  must  definitely  and  positively 
aim  at  the  production  and  distribution  of  a  higher 
average  of  happiness  within  the  whole  life  of  the 
community. 

This  does  not  mean  that  happiness  can  be  easily 
defined  or  that  it  can  be  secured  by  direc  search,  or 
that  it  is  the  only  item  to  be  taken  into  account.  The 
elements  that  make  up  happiness  are  doubtless  very 
variable,  ranging  all  the  way  from  profound  moral 
and  spiritual  satisfactions  which  last  a  lifetime  to  the 
simple  sense  of  physical  well-being  which  comes  with 
the  sunshine  of  a  spring  morning.  It  may  well  be,  too, 
that  happiness  is  a  by-product  of  living;  but  even  as 
such,  the  conditions  under  which  this  by-product 
appears  can  be  more  or  less  determined  and  provided 


Keeping  the  Program  Human  199 

for.  It  may  be  we  should  use  a  more  inclusive  term, 
such  as  community  well-being,  in  place  of  happiness. 
Such  a  term  might  make  room  for  intelligence  and 
action  alongside  of  happiness;  but  it  might  also  mean 
that  happiness  would  be  crowded  out.  Whatever  else 
may  be  included,  happiness,  in  the  sense  of  the  realiza- 
tion of  the  lasting  and  genuine  satisfactions  of  life, 
must  be  assured. 

Of  course,  satisfactions  are  of  many  sorts;  and 
about  them  there  is  not  much  use  disputing.  They 
include  the  calculating  bloodless  avarice  of  the  money- 
mad  monster;  the  wild  frenzy  of  the  fanatic;  the 
maudlin  gloatings  of  bestiality  and  obscenity;  the  calm 
joys  of  the  scholar;  the  unspeakable  blessedness  of  the 
mother;  the  thrilling  ecstasies  of  youth  and  maiden  in 
their  first  social  awakening;  and  the  bitter-sweetnesses 
of  childhood. 

But  of  whatever  sort,  satisfaction  is  primarily  a 
function  of  instinctive  expression,  and  since  our 
instincts  are  natural,  some  at  least  of  our  satisfactions 
rise  out  of  those  strata  of  our  natures  which  antedate 
the  "fall  of  man."  Therefore,  for  the  sake  of  these 
satisfactions,  which  even  the  most  conventional  moral- 
ists sometimes  feel,  and  covertly  enjoy,  some  sort  of 
unity  must  be  secured  to  human  life,  and  our  intel- 
lectual efforts  must  be  saved  from  becoming  too 
unnatural.  The  test  of  any  community  program  must 
somehow  appear  in  the  happiness  and  wholeness  of 


200  Community  Organisation 

individual  and  community  life;  and  the  individual  and 
community  program,  must,  therefore,  include  these 
natural  satisfactions. 

Meanwhile,  without  reference  to  any  kind  of  a  pro- 
gram, the  hunger  of  the  world  for  joy  and  beauty  is 
in  evidence  on  every  hand.  Nowhere  perhaps  does  this 
hunger  for  happiness  and  the  world's  failure  to  under-, 
stand  appear  more  definitely  and  more  dangerously 
than  in  its  dealing  with  the  instinctive  needs  of  child-' 
hood.  If  we  should  accept  wholeheartedly  the  general 
doctrine  of  the  instinctive  basis  of  life,  together  with 
the  doctrine  that  these  instinctive  endowments  need 
expression  and  exercise  both  for  their  development  and 
for  their  discipline,  we  might  still  make  the  fatal  mis- 
take made  by  some  of  the  earlier  psychologists  of 
instinct  in  assuming  a  play  instinct  as  one  of  the  normal 
instincts  of  child  life.  Segregating  all  the  play  interest 
and  capacity  of  childhood  under  a  definite  play 
instinct,  which  may  or  may  not,  like  any  other  instinct, 
be  present  in  any  particular  child,  we  gtt  a  description 
of  child  life  which  makes  it  possible  to  dissociate  play 
activities  from  all  other  childish  developments.  Would 
it  not  be  more  normal  and  natural  to  consider  that  all 
the  native  instincts  go  through  a  play  period?  That 
is  to  say,  should  we  not  speak  of  the  "play  of  instincts" 
rather  than  of  an  "instinct  of  play"?  Should  we  not 
make  sure  that  all  the  native  capacity  of  childhood 
shall  have  its  years  of  free  irresponsible  activity,  exer- 
cise, development,  preparation   for  the  more  serious 


Keeping  the  Program  Human  201 

activities  of  later  life?  Instead  of  devoting  one  little 
corner  of  childhood  to  play  and  joy  under  the  control 
of  a  play  instinct,  should  we  not  determine  to  preserve 
all  of  childhood  against  the  demoralizing  interests  of 
adult  life,  until  childish  capacities  have  achieved 
development  sufficient  to  enter  with  vigor  their  adult 
tasks  ? 

"Axes  may  bite  in  the  forest;  science  harness  the  streams, 
Railway  and  dock  be  builded, — all  in  a  land  of  dreams! 
Sunk  in  spiritual  torpor,  ye  flout  these  words  of  the  wise: 
'Only  to  music  of  children's  songs  shall  the  walls  of  a  nation 
rise.' " 

When  we  turn  to  the  period  of  adolescence  we  enter 
upon  a  land  that  has  been  mutilated  by  ignorance  and 
brutality  since  the  world  began.  In  recent  years,  how- 
ever, a  saner  psychology  has  enabled  us  to  realize 
something  of  this  poignant  hunger  for  beauty.  Jane 
Addam's  Spirit  of  Youth  and  the  City  Streets  is  a 
prose  poem  describing  her  explorations  in  this  land 
of  adolescence.  With  skilled  hand  she  touches  the  facts 
with  reference  to  both  boys  and  girls,  and  she  sees  in 
the  experiences  of  adolescence  the  raw  materials  out 
of  which  a  world  of  wondrous  beauty  or  a  world  of 
sordid  shame  or  some  intermediate  between  these 
extremes  is  being  made. 

She  helps  us  to  see  the  young  over-worked  girl  of 
the  city  streets  and  the  exploited  boy  and  young  man 
in  an  altogether  new  light.  We  had  thought  that  the 
young  working  girl,  for  example,  ought  to  be  content 
to  dress  in  calico  and  gingham,  to  live  economically 


202  Community  Organisation 

in  a  small  hall  bedroom,  to  save  her  money  for  good 
books  and  uplifting  entertainments  and  to  be  much 
concerned  with  the  salvation  of  her  soul.  But  looking 
at  her  in  this  more  sympathetic  light  we  see  that  she 
is  a  unit  in  the  long  story  of  the  generations,  and  that 
more  important  perhaps  than  her  own  individual  soul 
is  the  deep  fact  that  she  must  play  her  part  in  the  gen- 
erations of  men.  For  this  reason  the  finer  the  quality 
of  her  being  and  the  more  fit  she  is  for  motherhood 
the  more  surely  must  she  attend  to  all  those  elements 
of  appearance,  clothing  and  hats,  and  the  like,  which 
will  assure  her  that  in  her  competitions  with  other 
girls  of  lesser  quality  she  shall  never  be  at  a  disad- 
vantage. It  is  not  her  own  prestige  that  is  at  stake, 
nor  even  her  own  happiness;  rather  it  is  the  future  of 
the  race,  and  for  that  future  she  gives  herself  such 
beauty  as  she  can. 

We  do  not  see^this  as  an  expression  of  the  hunger 
for  life  and  beauty, — we  see  only  "the  self-conscious 
walk,  the  giggling  speech,  the  preposterous  clothing." 
Anna  Hempstead  Branch's  poem  "To  a  New  York 
Shop  Girl  Dressed  for  Sunday"  carries  the  same  deep 
insight  into  that  hunger  for  beauty  which  can  make 
even  the  most  sordid  surroundings  endurable: 

"Conspicuous,  splendid,  conscious,  sweet, 
She  spread  abroad  and  took  the  street. 

And  all  that  niceness  would  forbid, 
Superb,  she   smiled  upon  and   did.  .  .  . 

She  half  perceives,  half  understands, 
Snatching  her  gifts  with  both  her  hands.  .   .   . 


Keeping  the  Program  Human  203 

Innocent!  vulgar — that's  the  truth! 
Yet  with  the  darling  wiles  of  youth!  .  , 

And  judgment,  wearily  sad,  may  see 
No  grace  in  such  frivolity. 

Yet  which  of  us  was  ever  bold 

To  worship  Beauty,  hungry  and  cold! 

Scorn  famine  down,  proudly  expressed 
Apostle  to  what  things  are  best. 

Let  him  who  starves  to  buy  the  food 
For  his  soul's  comfort  find  her  good." 

We  may  see  all  these  aspects  of  the  life  of  boys  and 
girls  in  our  communities  in  a  sympathetic  way  and  so 
help  them  in  their  stumbling  struggling  efforts  to  find 
themselves  and  express  themselves,  and  so  bring  new 
beauty  into  being;  or  we  may  look  upon  all  these  dis- 
plays as  vulgar  and  pretentious,  we  may  criticise  and 
condemn,  we  may  summarily  decide  that  what  such 
giddy  young  people  need  is  to  have  more  work  to  do 
and  less  money  to  spend  and  less  time  to  waste,  until 
they  come  to  their  senses.  And  so  we  may  send  them 
to  the  mills  or  to  the  mines  or  to  any  other  situation 
in  which  childish  labor  power  can  be  converted  into 
wealth.  We  may  forget  that  the  world  needs  beauty 
and  joy  and  freshness  of  life  and  reassurance  of  the 
worth  of  life,  and  of  the  dominance  of  the  spiritual. 
In  these  days  we  should  have  much  help  in  forgetting 
these  things  and  little  help  in  remembering  them.  But 
if  ever  the  adult  life  of  our  communities  is  to  have  any 
other  significance  than  that  sordid  round  of  "getting 
and  spending  which  lays  waste  our  powers"  that  sig- 


204  Community  Organisation 

nificance  will  be  found  in  the  renewal  of  youth  which 
comes  when  parents  and  friends  le-live  in  the  lives  of 
the  children  of  the  community  the  lives  they  had 
themselves  once  hoped  to  live. 

Finally,  adult  life  must  be  released  from  many  of 
its  old  puritanical  repressions  and  fears.  The  grind  of 
life,  the  fear  of  poverty  and  of  impending  disasters,  the 
very  fear  of  hell  itself,  absorbs  too  much  of  the  world's 
energy  in  the  form  of  worry.  In  these  reconstruction 
years,  when  science  and  industry  are  making  over  the 
deliberate  and  active  programs  of  the  world,  should 
we  not  at  the  same  time  make  over  the  world's  pro- 
gram of  joy  and  beauty  and  set  up  new  resolutions  and 
standards  as  to  what  constitutes  a  genuinely  human 
program  of  individual  and  community  good?  The 
world  has  been  destroyed  by  too  much  old  habit  and 
custom,  on  the  one  hand,  and  by  too  much  deliberately 
developed  enginry  of  destruction  on  the  other.  The 
world  is  glutted  with  horror,  bestiality  and  hate.  Mil- 
lions of  men  and  women  will  carry  all  their  lives 
hideous  memories  and  gnawing  hungers  to  escape 
from  grief  and  sorrow  and  the  isolation  of  wartime 
attitudes.  Much  of  the  world's  heritage  of  beauty  as 
well  as  of  joy  and  happiness  has  been  destroyed. 
Europe  knows  the  revolting  ugliness  of  vast  devastated 
areas;  but  all  the  world  feels  something  of  the 
revolting  ugliness  of  vast  devastated  areas  of  our  com- 
mon human  nature,  where  all  the  old  loyalties  and 


Keeping  the  Program  Human  205 

neighborlinesses  have  been  destroyed  and  their  places 
taken  by  suspicion  and  hate. 

The  world  faces,  therefore,  the  long  task  of  bring- 
ing back  the  sense  of  reality  to  individuals  and  whole 
communities,  and  the  restoration  of  that  tranquiHty 
of  mind  which  can  organize  deliberation,  happiness 
and  activity,  into  a  common  social  program.  In  such 
a  program  music  and  poetry  and  beauty  of  home  and 
community  will  have  their  proper  share.  The  demo- 
cratic arts  of  pageantry  and  drama,  folk  songs,  folk 
tales,  folk  music  and  folk  dancing,  so  reminiscent  of 
the  long  struggles  of  the  race  to  escape  from  the 
shackles  of  uninteresting  toil,  from  the  horrors  of 
destructive  warfare,  and  from  the  oppression  of  super- 
stitious religions,  must  all  come  back  to  us.  The  latent 
talent  for  making  the  world  beautiful  must  be  devel- 
oped wherever  it  is  found.  In  the  long  run  we  shall 
probably  find  it  true  that  the  hunger  for  beauty,  the 
hunger  for  some  sort  of  complete  freedom  and  partici- 
pation, is  the  most  vital  hunger  of  the  human  heart, 
and  the  satisfaction  of  that  hunger  in  terms  of  indi- 
vidual and  community  happiness  made  possible  through 
the  socialization  of  science  and  industry,  may  prove  to 
be  the  final  word  in  individual  and  social  salvation. 
Certainly  no  community  program  can  justify  itself 
that  does  not  largely  include  just  such  an  ultimate  out- 
come as  this. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

THE   PROBLEM   OF   LEADERSHIP 

Among  the  many  "hang-overs"  from  autocratic 
regimes  of  the  past  is  the  legend  that  certain  indi- 
viduals have  a  peculiar  endowment  which  is  called 
"executive  ability."  This  "ability"  is  supposed  to  be 
essential  to  the  equipment  of  any  man  or  woman  who  is 
to  occupy  the  position  of  leadership  or  administration. 
Psychologically  it  is  supposed  to  provide  quick  appre- 
ciation of  certain  fundamental  elements  of  what  is 
called  "human  nature, "^-elements  which  are  supposed 
to  appear  in  men  wherever  they  work,  together  with 
a  more  or  less  uncanny  capacity  to  make  up  one's 
mind  decisively  yet  more  or  less  judicially,  and  to 
stand  on  the  decision  though  the  heavens  fall. 

Socially,  and  in  the  economic  sense,  this  legend  sug- 
gests an  invidious  comparison  between  the  executive 
and  the  ordinary  individual.  It  helps  to  perpetuate  old 
social  and  industrial  subordinations,  since  if  executive 
ability  is  a  special  endowment  from  the  Creator  it 
were  blasphemy  for  ordinary  individuals  to  presume 
to  hold  themselves  of  equal  rank  or  importance.  Big 
salaries  help  to  perpetuate  this  legend  and  to  bolster 
up  this  invidious  prestige  also. 

206 


The  Problem  of  Leadership  207 

Undoubtedly  men  and  women  of  peculiar  ability  in 
administrative  lines  do  exist;  but  that  fact  does  not 
support  the  old  legend,  for  that  old  legend  holds  more 
or  less  consciously  that  a  man  of  trained  executive 
ability  in  any  one  line  can  be  transferred  to  any  other 
type  of  activity  and  administer  it  quite  as  effectively. 
There  may  be  an  occasional  individual  who  has  this 
tremendous  capacity  to  take  on  the  essential  elements 
of  any  new  situation  quickly  and  to  relate  himself 
effectively  to  the  essential  lines  of  effort  in  that  new 
position.  But  executive  ability  in  the  long  run  depends 
upon  knowledge  of  the  elements  that  enter  into  a  situa- 
tion; upon  ability  and  willingness  to  give  conscientious 
attention  to  details;  upon  some  sort  of  comprehensive 
theory  of  the  work  being  carried  on,  and  of  the  sig- 
nificant factors  that  must  be  co-ordinated  and  adapted 
to  each  other  in  order  that  the  most  effective  results 
may  be  achieved. 

Democracy  needs  a  completely  new  organization  of 
the  technique  of  administration,  which  will  be  consis- 
tent with  the  factors  and  the  aims  which  a  democratic 
community  seeks  to  achieve.  Democracy  requires  lead- 
ership. Autocratic  bossing  of  the  job  is  not  real  lead- 
ership. It  may  be  "executive  ability"  but  if  so  it  is  an 
ability  to  "execute"  the  aspirations  of  democracy,  to 
suppress  them,  and  discourage  and  destroy  them, 
rather  than  to  lead  them.  All  too  long  democracy  has 
had  to  fight  against  these  unsympathetic  attitudes  of 
the  typical  administrator.    One  phase  of  the  work  of 


208  Community  Organisation 

the  deliberative  community  council  should  be  the  more 
complete  analysis  of  the  kind  of  leadership  and  admin- 
istration which  the  democratic  community  must  have. 

The  most  real  difficulty  in  our  present  cvorld-unrest 
arises  out  of  the  fact  that  our  community  interests, 
international,  national  and  local,  are  still  largely  domi- 
nated by  "executives"  who  have  not  the  slightest  com- 
prehension of  the  suppressed  energies  they  are  dealing 
with  or  the  ideal  demands  toward  which  those  energies 
are  aspiring.  The  industrial  leader,  the  political  boss, 
the  typical  educator,  the  traditional  theologian  all  bear 
the  taint  of  this  undemocracy.  They  are  all  impatient 
of  deliberation,  and  of  the  vague  longings  of  the  sup- 
pressed multitudes.  The  more  definitely  they  urge 
their  programs  upon  present  conditions,  however,  the 
more  they  alienate  and  disaffect  those  whom  they  are 
supposed  to  lead. 

The  industrial  leader  wants  increased  production, 
but  he  does  not  know  how  to  get  it  under  conditions 
that  will  make  increased  production  permanent.  The 
politician  wants  votes,  but  he  is  rapidly  losing  his 
power  to  control  them,  and  he  will  soon  be  mouthing 
that  old  lament  about  the  "traditional  ingratitude  of 
republics."  The  theologian  wants  "the  kingdom," — 
some  kingdom,  most  any  kingdom, — and  he  wants  it 
so  badly  that  he  is  frequently  convinced  that  he  would 
be  justified  in  bringing  it  in  by  any  means, — force, 
falsehood,  or  hypocrisy.  The  educator  still  falls  back 
upon  the  original  maxim  of  teaching,  that  "lickin' 


The  Problem  of  Leadership  209 

and  larnin'  go  together."  These  and  their  kind  are  all 
good  men  gone  wrong.  Democracy  needs  executive 
leadership  quite  as  much  as  does  autocracy,  but  that 
leadership  must  be  democratic. 

The  first  task  of  the  democratic  leader  should  be  to 
become  really  acquainted  Ayith  the  forces  and  energies 
that  he  is  to  lead.  This  involves  going  far  below  the 
conventional  surface  of  things.  Democracy  demands 
that  every  normal  individual  shall  be  taken  into  account 
and  the  community  leader  must  be  one  who  can 
do  this  democratic  accounting.  He  must  be  able  to  help 
those  long-lost  forces  and  energies  recover  from  their 
old  repressions  and  discover  their  capacity  to  express 
themselves  in  order  that  a  program  or  policy  for  the 
community  shall  actually  come  out  of  the  vital  life  of 
that  community.  That  is  to  say,  the  democratic  leader 
will  be  thoroughly  sympathetic  with  the  deliberative 
mood  of  the  community.  He  will  want  the  policy 
which  he  administers  to  be  the  policy  of  the  com- 
munity. Of  course  if  he  is  still  tainted  with  traditional 
administrative  attitudes  he  will  value  efficiency  too 
much  to  bother  with  the  feelings  of  the  community. 

The  story  is  told  of  a  well-known  university  presi- 
dent that  during  the  war  he  heard  that  a  certain  mem- 
ber of  the  university  faculty  had  been  guilty  of  making 
pro-German  statements.  Calling  the  man  into  his 
office,  he  inquired  as  to  the  facts,  "Oh,  nothing  like 
that,"  the  teacher  is  reported  to  have  replied,  "all  that  I 
said  was  that  an  autocratic  executive  is  more  efficient 


210  Community  Organisation 

than  a  democratic  one."  "Oh  well,  if  that's  all  you  said, 
go  on  about  your  business,"  was  the  reply.  This  presi- 
dent was  the  executive  of  the  state  university  in  one 
of  our  more  democratic  commonwealths.  Democracy 
will  have  to  succeed  in  spite  of  its  executives,  it  seems. 

In  administering  the  community  policy  the  demo- 
cratic executive  will  seek  to  release  in  positive  and 
advantageous  ways  more  and  more  of  the  hidden 
resources  of  the  community  life.  He  will  be  no  more 
frightened  by  these  hidden  resources  than  is  the 
prospector  frightened  by  discovering  gold.  Even  the 
prospector  gets  a  sort  of  stage  fever  at  the  sudden 
realization  of  wealth.  Our  communities  are  poverty 
stricken,  not  because  they  are  without  wealth,  but 
because  the  wealth  is  hidden  and  unrealized.  Com- 
munity leadership  of  the  future  must  go  endlessly  on 
the  assumption  that  the  welfare  of  the  community  will 
be  continuously  furthered  and  conserved  by  the  dis- 
covery of  more  and  more  of  this  hidden  wealth — these 
"lost  talents." 

But,  now,  in  such  a  release  and  development  of  the 
hidden  inner  life  the  democratic  community  will  awake 
to  the  fact  that  every  human  being  needs  some  real 
experience  of  leadership.  This  is  not  only  necessary; 
it  is  becoming  definitely  possible.  Our  democratic  life 
exhibits  a  continuous  growth  in  the  division  of  labor 
and  of  social  interest.  This  differentiation  of  interest 
and  vocation  calls  for  continuous  development  of  spe- 
cial abilities  and  for  specific  leaderships.    Statistics 


The  Problem  of  Leadership  211 

show  that  more  than  13,000  specialized  vocations  are 
in  existence.  Each  of  these  requires  some  peculiar 
skill;  each  gives  room  for  the  emergence  of  qualities 
of  leadership;  each  such  vocation  might  develop  its 
own  particular  type  of  ethics,  and  each  will  involve 
genuine  thoughtfulness  in  working  out  its  vital  rela- 
tionship to  other  vocations  and  to  the  common  welfare 
of  the  community.  Democracy  cannot  abide  the  mere 
isolated  worker,  lost  in  the  routine  of  his  vocation. 
Every  member  of  the  democratic  community  ought  to 
be  a  worker,  and  every  worker  ought  to  be  a  real  mem- 
ber of  the  community. 

The  full  development  of  the  many  implications  of 
this  doctrine  would  give  to  our  democratic  communi- 
ties what  the  enemies  of  democracy  have  long  declared 
to  be  impossible,  that  is,  color  and  variety.  Enraptured 
by  memories  of  the  colorful  glory  of  the  conspicuous 
wastes  of  autocratic  ages,  when  mannikins  established 
their  individuality  by  distinctive  types  of  ceremonial 
dress  and  when,  for  example,  kings  met  on  fields  car- 
peted with  gold,  the  enemies  of  democracy  have  uni- 
formly charged  that  the  inevitable  fate  of  any  demo- 
cratic social  order  must  be  monotonous  mediocrity, — 
dull,  drab,  lifeless.  But  the  real  fact  seems  to  be  that 
this  monotonous  mediocrity  which  has  at  times 
existed  is  the  result  not  of  a  real  democracy,  but  of  the 
effort  of  the  enemies  of  democracy  to  prevent  the 
emergence  of  a  real  democratic  variety.  It  must  be 
apparent  that  true  development  of  all  the  native  indi- 


212  Community  Organisation 

viduality  of  our  democratic  communities  would  be 
quite  as  colorful  as  any  autocratic  community  ever 
could  boast, — with  this  advantage:  that  the  variety 
would  come  from  the  inner  resources  of  individuals, 
not  from  the  outer  resources  and  arts  of  the  tailor, 
the  dressmaker,  and  the  fashionplate. 

This  promise  of  infinite  variety  and  color  of  life  as 
the  expression  of  native  resources  is  integral  in  the 
faith  of  democracy.  Childhood  demonstrates  the  real- 
ity of  this  infinite  variety;  but  wholsale  systems  of  dis- 
cipline and  autocratic  methods  of  inculcating  uniform 
masses  of  uninteresting  facts  destroy  this  individuality 
early,  "There  emerges  from  our  school  system,"  says 
Benson,  "a  stream  of  uniformly  stupid  boys  and  girls, 
— nice,  quiet  and  respectable,  but  knowing  almost 
nothing,  without  intellectual  interests,  and  indeed  hon- 
estly despising  such  interests." 

Corresponding  to  this  fact  of  the  infinite  variety  of 
childhood  is  this  other  fact  which  we  have  already 
noted,  the  growing  range  of  social  vocations  and  com- 
munity interests.  These  two  demand  each  other.  But 
between  them  stands  that  narrow  pedantry  of  the 
schools,  that  moral  fearfulness  of  religion,  that  intoler- 
ant littleness  of  politics,  and  that  traditional  cupidity 
of  business,  which  are  fearful  of  new  patterns  of  indi- 
vidual initiative,  of  variety  and  color,  and  which  seek 
in  every  possible  way  to  prevent  the  natural  develop- 
ment of  these  democratic  realities.  Assuming  the  final- 
ity of  old  institutions,  conventional  leaders  oppose  any 


The  Problem  of  Leadership  213 

reorganization  of  institutions  or  community  programs 
that  would  provide  for  the  emergence  of  these  new 
patterns  in  natural  ways. 

But  it  is  certain  that  this  infinite  variety  of  life  will 
find  its  way  out  into  the  open  life  of  the  world  as 
surely  as  the  living  seed  sends  its  shoots  into  the  sun- 
shine of  the  spring.  Buried  under  the  debris  of  ages 
of  ignorance  and  intolerance,  this  life  is  bursting 
through  at  last.  Out  of  this  more  varied  life  will  come 
that  more  varied  chance  for  leadership  which  is  of  the 
genius  of  democracy,  while  at  the  same  time,  the  more 
completely  organized  community  life  will  give  oppor- 
tunity to  every  individual  to  share  in  the  experiences 
of  following.  Democracy  can  tolerate  no  individual 
who  can  do  nothing  but  "lead," — such  a  person  is 
probably  insane,  just  as  the  individual  who  can  do 
nothing  but  follow  is  likely  to  be  below  par  mentally. 

Such  differentiation  of  the  community  will  make 
room  for  two  types  of  leaders :  ( 1 )  the  specialist,  who 
will  be  particularly  concerned  with  the  minutiae  of 
understanding  and  organization  in  some  limited  field; 
and  (2)  the  "generalist,"  whose  concern  will  be  with 
the  maintenance  of  the  integral  community  program, 
in  spite  of  all  divisions  and  differentiations  within. 
There  will  be  no  social  conflict  between  these  two 
types;  but  there  will  be  an  endless  logical  conflict.  The 
specialist  will  intensify,  define,  enrich  and  make  end- 
lessly more  varied  the  particular  comers  of  community 
interest  and   life;   the   "generalist"    will   criticise  all 


214-  Community  Organisation 

such  developments  from  the  standpoint  of  their  mean- 
ing for  the  community  as  a  whole.     Both  are  needed. 

A  final  consideration  brings  in  the  question  of  that 
non-conformist  leadership  that  introduces  new  pat- 
terns of  living  into  the  community.  Autocracy  of 
course  could  not  endure  this.  In  the  old  Russia,  origi- 
nality was  a  crime  punishable  by  exile  in  Siberia. 
Democracy  must  take  exactly  the  opposite  view.  The 
new  pattern  and  the  non-conformist  are  both  essen- 
tial to  the  vitality  of  our  democratic  life.  Professional, 
pedantic,  dull  leaderships  are  produced  in  plenty  in 
the  life  of  institutions;  but  those  magnetic  leaderships 
which  strike  out  new  lines  of  adventure  beyond  the 
limits  of  the  commonplace  come  largely  from  outside 
institutions.  Institutional  prestige  and  jealousy  refuse 
to  admit  this  fact,  or  to  accept  it;  but  it  remains  true 
and  must  be  admitted  even  for  the  sake  of  the  com- 
munity itself.  It  is  this  recognition  that  community, — 
in  his  phrase,  "Nationality" — is  dependent  upon  new 
patterns,  new  movements,  that  makes  Walt  Whitman's 
poetry  of  democracy  so  vital. 

"Still  though  the  one  I  sing,"  he  says,  is  Nationality, 
yet  that  Nationality  is  made  of  contradictions  and  its 
hope  is  in  the  everlasting  revolt  against  the  dead  levels 
of  conventionality: 

"Oh  latent  right  of  insurrection!  Oh  quenchless, 
indispensable  fire!" 

Democracy  must  realize  its  need  of  these  democratic 
types  of  leadership:  the  specialist,  the  "generalist,"  the 


The  Problem  of  Leadership  215 

non-conformist, — and  make  provision  for  them  insofar 
as  provision  can  be  made.  It  is  likely  that  no  provision 
can  be  made  for  the  non-conformist,  for  he  is  a  prophet 
and  he  cometh  not  by  observation.  But  democracy  can 
at  least  listen  to  him  when  he  comes. 

As  for  the  specialist  and  the  "generalist,"  the  ele- 
ments of  their  training  grow  more  obvious  in  these 
reconstructive  years.  They  must  both  be  rooted  deep 
in  the  social  sciences:  tliat  psychology  which  appre- 
ciates the  mechanisms  and  motives  of  human  behavior ; 
that  sociology  which  illuminates  the  mechanisms  and 
motives  of  group  and  community  conduct;  that  eco- 
nomics and  politics  which  penetrate  to  the  inner  sub- 
stance of  the  instincts  of  workmanship,  service,  loy- 
alty, subordination  and  cupidity;  and  that  ethics  which 
illustrates  the  ways  in  which  individuals  and  groups 
co-operate  for  the  achievement  of  any  desirable  end. 
The  community  is  a  reality  even  though  vaguely  ap- 
prehended and  understood;  he  who  would  lead  in  the 
community  effectively  and  constructively  must  have 
some  realistic  grasp  of  the  mechanisms  with  which  he 
deals.  As  the  physician  envisages  the  intricate  inner 
mechanisms  of  the  body  in  order  that  he  may  assuredly 
deal  with  their  pathological  development,  so  the  com- 
munity leader  must  envisage  the  intricate  structure  of 
the  community.  That  structure  is  the  most  com- 
plicated in  the  universe.  To  understand  it  is  at  present 
perhaps  largely  impossible,  because  the  contributory 
sciences  are  still  largely  incomplete ;  but  one  who  would 


216  Community  Organisation 

wofk  in  the  life  of  the  community  must  give  himself 
to  the  long  task  of  mastering  so  much  of  the  under- 
standing that  is  now  possible  as  his  time  will  permit; 
and  in  the  practical  work  of  his  career  he  may  then  be 
in  a  position  to  add  some  item  of  illuminating  knowl- 
edge to  the  world's  understanding  of  the  community. 
At  any  rate,  here  is  the  greatest  task  that  now  faces 
the  imagination  of  the  world.  The  destiny  of  civiliza- 
tion is  wrapped  up  in  the  future  of  community  life.  If 
that  life  becomes  intelligent,  richly  developed,  demo- 
cratically organized,  socially  controlled, — the  future  of 
civilization  is  secure.  If  it  remains  indolent,  thought- 
less, careless  of  human  goods,  laggard;  or  if  it  is 
organized  in  such  ways  as  to  subordinate  all  individual 
vitality,  originality  and  initiative  to  some  purely 
mechanical  principle  of  organization, — in  either  case, 
the  future  of  civilization  may  well  be  questioned.  The 
determination  is  largely  one  of  leadership.  If  the  com- 
munity can  secure  deliberative  leaders  whose  very 
instincts  are  democratic,  and  administrative  leaders 
whom  no  temptations  of  power  of  haste  or  "efficiency" 
can  turn  from  the  democratic  ideal,  the  future  of  the 
community  is  securely  democratic.  But  if  these  fail, 
civilization  may  have  to  lay  its  foundations  in  some 
new  community  soil,  in  some  new  and  future  age,  after 
it  has  recovered  from  the  shock  of  the  failure  of  the 
democratic  hopes  of  this  age.  The  fate  of  democracy 
and  community  is  not  with  extrinsic  powers  and  agen- 
cies; but  with  the  calm,   scientific  deliberation,   the 


The  Problem  of  Leadership  217 

serene  yet  serious  aspiration,  and  the  whole-souled 
democratic  administration  that  are  determined  from 
within  the  community  itself.  The  destiny  of  the  com- 
munity is  in  the  keeping  of — the  community. 


APPENDIX 

nXUSTRATIONS   OF   COMMUNITY   ORGANIZATION 

In  these  unquiet  times  the  call  for  new  forms  of 
community  organization  is  the  most  healthful  of  all 
social  demands.  And  the  response  to  that  demand 
shows  that  democratic  intelligence  is  not  altogether 
laggard.  To  be  sure,  conservative  intelligence  will 
not  permit  of  a  general  orgy  of  experimentation — 
and  that  is  well.  We  have  not  been  much  used  to 
social  experimentation  in  America  since  1789.  (The 
years  from  1776  to  1789  were  the  most  constructively 
experimental  in  our  history).  Hence  we  have  not 
developed  a  technique  for  our  control  in  the  matter. 
We  are  rather  too  much  like  children  in  a  laboratory. 

Certain  experiments  are  well  under  way  in  various 
parts  of  the  world.  It  were  well,  if  adequate  informa- 
tion were  available,  to  present  the  facts  of  that  most 
stupendous  experiment,  the  Soviet  organization  of 
Russia.  But  that  must  wait  until  events  have  cleared. 
A  number  of  less  ambitious  experiments  in  America 
may  be  set  forth  as  indicating  the  direction  of  practical 
experience,  and  as  showing  the  experimental  temper 
of  the  people. 

1.     The  Community  Center  Movement'. 

Men  require  the  companionship  of  their  fellows. 

218 


Appendix  219 

Happiness  is  largely  dependent  on  social  approval. 
Hence  we  must  have  something  to  take  the  place  of  the 
vanishing  cross-roads  meeting,  post-office  corner, 
saloon,  and  the  like.  The  public  schoolhouse  seems 
most  available  as  a  neighborhood  club,  where  the 
people  can  meet  again  on  terms  of  common  friendship. 
The  community  center  is  limited  only  by  the  size  of 
the  community.  "It  seeks  to  broaden  the  basis  of 
unity  among  men,  to  multiply  their  points  of  con- 
tact, to  consider  those  interests  which  all  have  in 
common."* 

This  movement  seems  to  be  very  valuable  as  a 
means  of  transforming  mere  residents  in  a  given  loca- 
tion into  neighbors.  This  is  necessary;  but  it  is  not 
enough.  We  need  understanding  of  the  complex  prob- 
lems of  community  and  inter-community  life;  interest 
in  the  development  of  community  and  inter-community 
relationships;  and  the  will  to  share  in  all  the  concerns 
that  affect  the  common  welfare.  For  these  things  a 
more  closely  knit  organization  seems  necessary. 

2.     The  Central  Council  of  Social  Agencies: 

A  rather  different  type  of  experiment  has  developed 
in  a  number  of  American  cities.f  This  functions  through 
the  representation  of  the  various  community  groups 

♦Jackson:  A  Community  Center. 
cf.  also  Clarke,  I.  C:  The  Little  Dernocracy. 

Hanifan,  L.  J.:  The  Community  Center. 
Perry,   C.  A.:  Community   Center  Activities, 
fcf.  pamphlet  on  The  Central  Council  of  Social  Agencies 
by   F.   H.   McLean  published  by  American  Association  for 
Organizing  Family  Social  Work. 


220  Community  Organization 

in  one  central  body.  Usually  it  has  included  only 
those  agencies  devoted  to  "social  work,"  but  efforts 
are  being  made  to  have  it  include  all  the  agencies  of : 

(1)  Education,  Vocation,   Culture  and  Recreation; 

(2)  Relief  and  Remedy;  (3)  Industrial,  Commercial, 
Social  and  Religious  Interests.  The  aim  of  such  a 
council  is  to  keep  the  various  groups  in  close  friendly 
contact,  to  act  as  a  clearing  house  of  information  for 
the  general  public,  and  to  increase  efficiency  in  all 
lines  of  community  work  by  eliminating  duplications 
of  effort  and  supplementing  in  fields  which  have  not 
been  covered. 

3.     The  Community  Council  Movement : 

As  a  direct  outgrowth  of  the  work  of  the  National 
Council  of  Defense  in  wartime,  a  number  of  com- 
munities are  organized  into  community  councils.  All 
citizens  within  a  given  council  area  may  become  mem- 
bers, membership  being  based  on  service  rendered  by 
the  individual  to  the  community.  The  community 
council  should  be  self-governing  and  self-supporting. 
It  should  have  an  advisory  board  made  up  of  the 
representatives  of  departments  of  government  and 
social  institutions.  These  representatives  should  be, 
whenever  possible,  local  workers  of  the  department  or 
agency  whose  task  lies  in  the  council  district,  and 
who  therefore  need  the  people's  co-operation  and  could 
provide  the  leadership  required.  The  advisory  com- 
mittee should  exist  for  service,  not  for  control. 


Appendix  221 

When  enough  councils  have  been  developed  a  City 
Congress  or  Parliament  made  up  of  delegates  of  these 
Councils  should  be  formed.  And  any  control  over 
local  Councils,  if  allocated  to  any  outside  agency, 
should  be  allocated  to  this  City  Congress. 

The  purposes  of  such  a  Council  are:  to  serve  as  a 
forum;  to  provide  machinery  for  initiating  neighbor- 
hood enterprises  (such  as  co-operative  markets,  block 
parties,  and  the  like)  ;  to  make  the  residents  of  the 
community  real  members  of  the  community  through 
participation  and  responsibility.* 

5.     The  Community  Service  Movement : 

Community  organization  on  the  basis  of  social  and 
recreational  activities  is  developing  widely  over  the 
country,  and  is  being  stimulated  nationally  by  "Com- 
munity Service  Incorporated,"  the  successor  of  War 
Camp  Community  Service.  The  program  includes 
such  activities  as  the  following: 

City  and  Neighborhood  Service, — fostering  a  spirit 
of  neighborliness  which  will  include  all  nationalities, 
all  homeless  men  and  women,  all  residents  in  the  local- 
ity; mobilizing  the  neighborhood  resources  for  leisure 
time  activities  which  will  secure  community  participa- 
tion, will  operate  through  volunteers,  and  will  utilize 
the  semi-idle  facilities  of  the  neighborhood,  such  as 
school  buildings,  other  public  buildings,  vacant  lots,  etc. 

♦Community  Councils  of  New  York  City, — Statement  of 
Work  and  Problems,  July  12,  1919.  For  information  address 
U.  S.  Bureau  of  Education,  Washington,  D.  C. 


222  Community  Organisation 

Community  Recreation, — including  playgrounds, 
block  parties,  twilight  athletic  leagues,  neighborhood 
picnics,  festivals,  etc. 

Community  Drama  and  Pageantry, — drawing 
together  in  this  interest  all  volunteer  and  professional 
service. 

Community  Music, — to  make  music,  vocal  and 
instrumental,  available  to  every  man  woman  and  child ; 
to  encourage  mass  singing,  community  choruses  and 
orchestras,  etc. 

Department  of  Information, — to  insure  to  new  and 
old  members  of  the  community  current  knowledge  of 
the  institutions  and  activities  of  the  city  which  can 
serve  them;  to  collect  information  with  a  view  to 
greater  efficiency  and  broader  vision  in  community 
work.* 

6.     The  Home  Service  Movement : 

Following  along  somewhat  similar  lines,  the  Ameri- 
can Red  Cross  has  also  developed  a  community  service 
organization.     This  "Home  Service"  work  includes: 
1.     Public   Health   Nursing,   Educational   Classes 
in  Dietetics,  Home  Care  of  the  Sick  and  First  Aid. 

2.  Home  Service  to  Civilian  Families,  Information 
Service  and  Community  Projects. 

3.  Children's  Activities  Through  Junior  Member- 
ship. 

♦Particulars  concerning  this  program  and  its  development 
in  various  American  cities  and  rural  communities  can  be 
secured  from  Community  Service  Incorporated,  1  Madison 
Ave.,  New  York  City. 


Appendix  223 

4.  Disaster  Relief. 

5.  Establishing  Health  Centers  for  the  preserva- 
tion, promotion  and  improvement  of  the  public  health 
in:  (a)  conservation  of  child  Hfe;  (b)  promotion  of 
rural  hygiene;  (c)  prevention  of  mental  diseases, 
industrial  diseases,  venereal  diseases  and  tuberculosis; 
(d)  education  of  the  people  in  matters  of  health  and 
prevention  of  disease.* 

The  Red  Cross  has  encountered  considerable  critic- 
ism for  undertaking  this  extended  home  service  work 
in  peace  times.  But  insofar  as  it  undertakes  tasks, 
especially  in  the  field  of  rural  health  conservation,  not 
at  present  the  concern  of  any  social  agency,  it  can  well 
afford  to  ignore  these  criticisms  and  permit  time  to 
justify  or  condemn  its  program. 

7.     The  "Social  Unit"  Movement: 

The  "Cincinnati  experiment"  is,  perhaps,  the  most 
famous  effort  at  community  organization.  The  four 
features  of  the  Social  Unit  Organization  are  as 
follows : 

1.  The  Citizens'  Council  of  thirty-one  members, 
chosen  by  local  Block  Councils,  which  are  in  turn 
elected  by  residents  of  the  blocks,  every  one  of  either 
sex  over  eighteen  years  of  age  residing  in  the  block 
having  the  right  to  vote  for  the  Block  Councils.  It  is 
estimated  that  each  of  the  thirty-one  blocks  inclu-des 

♦Full  information  can  be  secured  from  National  Head- 
quarters, the  American  Red  Cross,  Washington,  D.  C 


224  Community  Organisation 

a  population  of  approximately  one  hundred  families  or 
five  hundred  people. 

2.  The  Occupational  Council,  composed  at  present 
of  the  elected  representatives  of  seven  skilled  groups 
serving,  although  not  necessarily  resident  in  the  dis- 
trict. The  Occupational  Council  is  elected  by  group 
councils  organized  in  the  following  skilled  groups; 
physicians,  nurses,  recreational  workers,  teachers, 
social  workers,  ministers  and  trade  unionists. 

3.  The  General  Council,  which  has  full  control 
over  all  neighborhood  programs,  is  made  up  of  the 
members  of  the  Citizens  Council  and  the  Occupational 
Council  sitting  together. 

4.  The  Council  of  Executives,  consists  of  the  three 
executives  of  the  three  councils  above  named. 

Investigations  show  that  the  movement  is  free  from 
machine  control.  The  leaders,  workers  and  sup- 
porters seem  to  be  intensely  interested  in  the  develop- 
ment of  a  completely  democratic  community  organiza- 
tion. They  want  the  people  to  do  their  own  thinking 
and  to  participate  fully  in  the  activities  by  which  that 
thinking  becomes  organized  into  community  habit.  It 
is  an  effort  to  escape  from  the  "representative  govern- 
ment" which  does  not  represent  into  the  essential 
democracy  of  our  earlier  American  experiences.  The 
movement  has  been  quite  successful  in  Cincinnati, 
where  the  funds  were  provided  from  outside  sources. 
It  remains  to  be  seen  whether  it  will  be  as  completely 


Appendix  225 

successful  in  any  other  community  which  must  provide 
its  own  funds  for  financing  its  program.* 

8.  Interesting  programs  with  many  admirable 
community  features  are  proposed  by  the  Y.  M.  C.  A., 
the  Y.  W.  C.  A.,  the  National  Catholic  War  Council, 
and  various  of  the  church  organizations.  Full  partic- 
ulars of  these  may  be  secured  from  their  respective 
national  headquarters. 

*Devine,  E.  T,:  The  Survey  for  November  15,  1919.  For 
information  address  The  National  Social  Unit  Organization, 
117  West  46th  Street,  New  York  City, 


INDEX 

PAGE 

Adolescejice    _ 201f 

Adult  Education  _ 87,  115 

America  _ 41,  97 

American  Doctrine  _ 12 

American    Institutions    138,  185 

"Americanism"    _ 23,  131,  135 

Amusements    _ _ ^ _18,  42-4S 

Aristocracy    _ _       51 

Attitudes    26 

Autocracy,  Naturalness  of  _ 132 

Bacon  _ _ 79,  162 

Beauty    _ 88 

Benson _ _ 212 

Bentham  _ _ 54 

Brotherhood  of  Man  55f 

Browning  162 

British  Labor  Party  57 

Business  95,  107 

Carlyle _ 14,  155,  197 

Case  Work  „ llOf 

Catholic    42 

Centers  of  Instinct  _ 3 

Central  Council  of  Social  Agencies  „ 219f 

Change    177f 

Child  Labor  _ _. 83,    99 

Child,  Welfare  84,  86 

Choice  _. 37 

Church  _ 28,  40f,  96,  111,  131f 

Christianity  _ _ 40 

Cincinnati    Experiment   223f 

Citizenship  84,   115 

Civilization    „ _ 22 

Class  Struggle 14 

Collective    Bargaining   118f 

Colonists    _ 6f 

Communal  Nature  of  Man  167f 

Color  in  Democracy  _ 21  If 

Community .4,  6,  9f,  16,  38,  46,  55,  59f,  63,  93,  lOlff,  169f 

Community  Center  Movement  ____..._____,...._    218f 

226 


Index  227 

PAGE 

Community  Councils  Movement  220f 

Community  Deliberative  Council  115f,  146 

Community  Service  Incorporated  _ 221f 

Competition    ^ - 10 

Congeniality    19 

Control  _ ., 97 

Consciousness  of  Kind  56f 

Co-operation  _ 21,   113 

Courtship  _ 38 

Crevices    — 6 

Cromwell  — 69 

Defectives    - 46 

Defects   (Social)   - - 93ff 

Democracy   19,   35,    52,   67,   76ff,   97,    153 

Direct    Action    118,    125 

Economics  63,  71ff 

Economic  Interpretation  of  Conduct  _ 187 

Education  ZZ,  63,  79,  86,  96,  102,  113f,  190f,  195,  212 

Educational  Tests  25 

Emotion  58 

England _ 41f 

Enlightened  Selfishness  _ 176f 

Ephebic  Oath 61 

Ethics    _ 63,    75,   89 

Evolution  _ 51 

Exclusions    _ 46f 

Executive  Ability  „ 182f,  206f 

Experimentation  149,  185,  218f 

Fact  7Z 

Family  36,  83 

Fatherland  _ _ 10 

Fear  34,  54,  57,  74,  104 

Ferguson    _ 165 

Force  _ 13,  32,  180f 

Fragmentation  of  the   Community 137 

Frontiers,  the  New  154,   164f 

Germany 19,   41,    54 

Good  Will   55f,  58,  116 

Government   „..4,   31,   129,    143,    189 

Government  by  Injunction  13 

Gregariousness    _ 1 68 

Group  Thinking  _ 145 

Group  Work  .„ _ 105f 

Habit  _ 15,  50flF,  58,  79ff 


228  Community  Organisation 

PAGE 

Happiness    _ 197f 

Health   Program   25,  81,  172 

Home  _ - 28,  95 

Housing   82 

Human    Nature   78ff,    169f 

Hypothesis  _ - 67ff,   148,  164f 

Idealism    23,    64,    179,    184 

Ideals    _ 180 

Impulse    __ 30 

Indirect   Action 119 

Individual 3,  50ff,  59 

Individualistic  — 7,   107 

Industry   27,   82f,   85,   133,    181,    195f 

Intellectual    34 

Instincts  18,  24,  31,  75,  124,  199f 

Institutions  _ 4,  6,  9,  31f,  67,  167,  177,  214 

Internationalism    17 

Jefferson  _ _ 68 

Jesus    _ 78 

Jewish  42 

Justice    ~ _ - 85 

Labor   Union    13,    117ff,    137f,    188f 

Laissez  Faire  10,   107 

Law 73,  120 

Leadership 19,  35,  134,  213£,  216 

Leisure 43,    88 

Liberalism* 112 

Literacy    _ 25 

Lost  Talents  of  the  Community 210 

Loyalty   _ _ 12ff,    17,    31f 

Marriage    „ 37 

Method   _ 105,  118 

Middle  Ages  _ 51,  53 

Motives  _ 30 

National  Catholic  War  Council  _    225 

Needs    ._ 3 

Nervous    System   __ 16 

Newspapers  „ _ 133 

Non-Conformist  _ 170f,  214 

Normal  Living 92 

Optimism    _ 162f 

Organic   Growth   15 

Organization   _ „ „..   130,  132 


Index  229 

PAGE 

Partisanship    — _ 5 

Pessimism    _ _ _ 158f 

Philosopher's  Stone  163 

Philosophy    _ ~ 64 

Physical  Ability 25 

Pioneers    _ 7f,  102 

Plato   S3 

Play  42-45,  87,  200f 

Pleasure  and  Pain  55,  57,   199f 

Political   Science  _ 63,   71 

Political   State  12,  28,.  32ff,  97,  189 

Poverty    _ 99 

Practical  Man  134,  182 

Pragmatism   _. 64,   65ff,  68 

Primitive  Community  _„ 9,  62 

Program  143,  155,  175f 

Progress    129,  163 

Property   1 1,  187f 

Prostitution    _ 173f 

Protestant    42 

Psychology  31,  52,  65,   71,  74,  78 

Puritanism  __ 194 

Radicalism  128,  139 

Reaction  _ 139 

Realism  „      64 

Reconstruction   91ff,    104,  139 

Recreation  87,  143,  172ff,  200f,  204f 

Red    Cross   Home   Service   222f 

Religion    40,    191,  197 

Repression  „ 157 

Revolution    81,  126 

Revolution  Absolute  165f,  176 

Roman    Circus   .._ 1 36 

Rousseau    167f 

Rural  Life 25 

Sabotage   30,  123f 

Saloon 137 

Salvation    _ 105 

School 4,  28,  34 

Science  19,  27,  34,  62f,  71ff,  149,  156 

Sex _ 18,  2,7,  44f 

Single  Tax  „ 1 16f 

Smith,   Adam   72 

Sociability    _ 18 

Social   Contract  Theory  „ 167f 

Socialism  41.  126ff,  128 


230  Community  Organisation 

PAGE 

Social  Legislation  120 

Social  Scientist  146 

Social  Sedatives  136 

Social  Unit  223f 

Social  Workers  _ 20,  91,  100 

Socrates    53 

Sophistic  Attitude  _ _ _ 162 

Soviet  Russia  „ 218 

Standards   81f 

Standards  of  Living  _ 89 

Strikes    _ 29ff 

Suggestion   _ 181,  185 

Taxati  on    — 1 1 6f 

Technique  of  Administration  207f 

Technique  of  Deliberation  151 

Tests   24ff 

Tradition  _ 26,  SOff 

Treason „ _ 24 

Unemployment  _ _ 99 

Unrest    _ „ 99 

Utilitarianism    _ _ 54f 

Wage  System  82 

Wallas  17 

War  Camp  Community  Service  221 

Whitman    214 

Wilson,   President  _. 68,  76f 

Women   38f,  99 

Woman's   Suffrage   138 

Words  80 


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